The Twelve Swans
by violingirl05
Summary: This is an original retelling of the Twelve Dancing Princesses. A group of girls are trained since childhood to dance and perform for nobles and dignitaries across the kingdom of Allar, but they live double lives. At the stroke of midnight, they are forced to dance all night at a secret pavillion for their mysterious instructor. What can possibly free them? True love, of course!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is just a retelling of the traditional Twelve Dancing princesses story. It's my very first fanfic so any and all reviews are welcome!**

The music swelled around her, urging her feet to move faster and her hands to paint pictures in the air. She complied, despite the fact that her breath was gone and her legs trembled. She would dance as long as the music urged as sweetly as it did now.

The dancer's body moved gracefully, like a swan, dipping and swaying and even taking flight. It was hard to believe she was human; she must be a life-sized marionette, to dance as perfectly and as long as she had, and her puppeteer was a master with the strings.

But no, she was a real girl, flesh and blood. And her body was tiring. Oh, please, sweet music, end, for I am a mere mortal, unworthy of such heavenly strains. I cannot keep up with you.

As if the music had heard her silent plea, it began to slow, and then fade away, like a morning mist. Her body never wavering, the dancer slowed in time to the haunting flutes, and, as it disappeared, twisted herself into the most elegant curtsey – feet a complicated knot under her skirt, back arching, hands crossed over her chest. She was met with near-thunderous applause.

The dancer held the curtsey until her instructor mounted the stage. She unfolded herself to take her bows alongside him. Eventually, he tapped her shoulder, a signal to disappear while he earned money from the crowd.

Backstage, her smile disappeared. Fools, she thought, all of them. Well-pampered fools. They applauded because they saw her dance prettily for two hours. What they didn't know, was that she had danced, in secret, against her will, for nearly twenty.

Catalina had only one complete memory of her life when she was not dancing. That was the day Mr. Rictadore came to the orphanage. She was four years old.

She remembered Rictadore as being a spindly, scary man of questionable age, and he remained the same today. He had stared down his long, thin nose at her as all the little girls her age lined up outside the orphanage per his request. The orphanage headmistress had stood off to the side, and all the other girls peered out the windows, curious as to what the strange man intended to do with ten three- and four-year-olds.

Rictadore pulled a stick of chalk out of his coat pocket. Catalina remembered wondering if they were going to play hopscotch. Instead, he had drawn a single straight line in the rough cobbles and made the girls walk the line with their hands extended straight from their shoulders. Many of them had wobbled and stumbled. Rictadore had sent these girls inside straight away. Catalina had walked the line perfectly balanced. After that, he asked her to do a cartwheel and backwards flips. She had done these easily, for someone had taught her. Now, she supposed that person to be a parent or an older sibling – she couldn't be sure. Only she and one other girl had done what Rictadore asked perfectly. Rictadore had handed the headmistress a bag that rattled, and they had left with him.

From that day on, Rictadore had begun the dance lessons. The other girl was named Melanie, and despite the fact that they were the only two girls in the beginning, she refused to be friends with Catalina. She had stayed stubbornly aloof, and Catalina had been terribly lonely for six long months, before the others girls came. Ever since then, Catalina had danced nonstop.

She trudged past the other girls backstage, not caring if her pointe shoes clapped loudly on the floor. She was so tired. Someone pushed her down into a chair.

"You're done for today," Elizabeth said, ever practical. "You're dead on your feet."

"Poor dear," Violet said. She and her twin sister Lily began unlacing Catalina's shoes. The twins had been the second group of girls to join Rictadore's troupe, and Catalina's first friends.

"It's off to bed with you," Elizabeth continued. "I'll make our apologies and excuses. Just sleep. Ivy, Elle, get her upstairs."

Ivy bounded to Catalina's side and linked their arms. Catalina made no protests; she was far too exhausted. As the two girls led her away, she heard Elizabeth say, "Where on earth is Melanie?"

In her room, Catalina sat gingerly on the edge of her bed; if she were to lay down, she would fall asleep in an instant. Ivy and Elle helped her remove her stockings and tutu, and unpinned her long black hair. As she eased a nightdress over her head, Catalina murmured, "Is it a full moon tonight?"

"Don't worry about it," Elle evaded the question.

"Just go to sleep, Cat," Ivy said, pulling the bedclothes up around Catalina's chin. "We'll take care of things."

"You should sleep, too," Catalina protested weakly. Her eyes were already closing. "You danced all night, too."

"But we slept this afternoon," Ivy countered.

"You ran around doing your job and Melanie's," Elle added. "And then you danced for her, too. So sleep."

With that, the girls left, leaving Catalina to plunge into darkness where no music taunted her aching muscles to movement.

The next morning found Catalina beautifully refreshed, but terribly late.

She burst into the dance studio with her hair undone and spilling down her back, pulling on her ballet shoes while juggling her pointe shoes, and her dress twisted in the back.

"Oh, dear, did you really run through the palace like this?" Clara asked as she tried to untangle the slippery skirt.

"I must have," Catalina said. "I'm sorry girls, I overslept."

Ten pairs of eyes widened at her. Catalina was well-known for rising early, no matter how late she had danced the night before.

"We thought you were off doing your important things," Jessica said for the group. "You really must have been worn out last night."

"Yes, well," Catalina said, snapping her hair back into a neat bun, "until Melanie shows up, I am stuck doing all of her work, too. And the princesses have a lesson today, so let's hurry along."

The girls jumped to their feet and stood in a line at the dance barre, to begin their warming up stretches. Catalina moved down the line, greeting each girl in turn. Ivy, Elle, Jessica, Isabelle, Clara, Julia, Tiana, Elizabeth, Violet and Lily. Counting Catalina and Melanie, they were twelve in all. Twelve beautiful dancers, Rictadore's pride and joy. They were called the Twelve Swans.

As a group, the Twelve Swans was nothing flashy or spectacular, but their talent was unrivaled. Rumor had it that Rictadore had once been a lord who lost his fortune due to bad management. Disgusted with the immoral and tasteless entertainments to be found in nobles' courts, he had used the last of his money to purchase a small studio and travel the kingdom, looking for dancers. Each of the girls were orphaned or abandoned, and had been snatched up by Rictadore no older than the age of five. Their dance lessons were unyielding in their intensity, for Rictadore accepted nothing less than perfection. Once the girls were old enough and trained enough to give an "enthralling" performance, Rictadore began a schedule of performances as rigorous and merciless as his training. They had performed in every nobles' court across the land, and every theatre in between. Their signature dance was the Swan's Ballet, and their name quickly followed.

By now,morning warm-ups had become so routine that Rictadore didn't even bother to show up. Their daily life was the same no matter where they were. They had lessons in the mornings, rehearsal in the afternoons supervised by Rictadore, and performances all night long. Catalina and Melanie, as the two prima ballerinas, led morning lessons while Rictadore caught up on sleep. Melanie had mysteriously disappeared almost three weeks ago, leaving Catalina to do the administration of two and a half people, as Rictadore only ever cared about the money and the dancing. Catalina now had to dance her and Melanie's roles, as none of the other girls knew the part well enough to satisfy Rictadore.

"No word from Melanie the Maleficient?" Isabelle asked as they stretched on the floor.

Catalina shot a glare in her direction, silencing all giggles around the room. Melanie was the black sheep of their unusual family; she never wanted a part of the sisterly affection between the girls. She was mean, vain, disrespectful and narcissistic, and would do whatever it took to stay on top. Melanie had made life extra miserable for the other dancers, but she had done a lot of work, and her absence was reluctantly felt.

"She probably found herself that rich duke she was always going on about," Lily commented.

"It wasn't a duke," her twin, Violet, said. "That wasn't enough status for her. It was at least a king's advisor or higher."

"Yes, how did she put it?" Julia put her nose in the air, stuck out one hip and simpered, "I need a man with influence, not just a pretty sentimental title that is a hundred thousand years old and as influential as the man it was originally given to."

Even Catalina had to smile then. Julia's impression was dead-on. "All right, girls, that's enough. Those of you instructing the princesses today, come with me to the ballroom. The rest of you know what to do."

A collective groan rose from the seven girls remaining downstairs. They were stuck mending, a dreaded chore. Rictadore was very particular when it came to costumes. The four girls going to tutor the princesses were quite glad to be freed, even if it meant more dancing.

Catalina led the way through the intriate maze of halls to the ballroom, followed by Elle, Clara, Tiana and Isabelle. They arrived with just enough time to draw back the curtains covering the floor-to-ceiling mirrors on one wall before the princessess arrived.

The princesses were the four younger children of the Royal Couple, the eldest being the Crown Prince Luke. They ranged in age from sixteen to five, and despite the fact that they were royals, they were some of the sweetest girls Catalina had ever met. Far nicer than half of the other noble girls they taught to dance, for sure. Unfortunatley, the Twelve Swans spent relatively little time at the Royal Palace, and hardly ever saw the princesses.

The four of them entered the ballroom in ways Catalina could only describe as perfectly fitting to their personalities. The eldest, Annabella, entered like a lady: quietly, gliding effortlessly across the polished floor. For all her apparent propriety, Annabella was quite fun once she opened up. The next eldest, Emma, was fourteen, and so beginning the lessons of etiquette and propriety that her sister had already mastered. But she loved dancing; it was by far her very favorite thing to do. While she walked alongside Annabella, her face glowed with happiness, and she clapped her hands excitedly. Brieanna, at twelve, was a dreamer, and consequently appeared as if she'd wandered into the ballroom on accident. Catalina recalled that Brieanna was very good at the slow, mournful ballets. The youngest, Lila, couldn't contain herself at shouted Catalina's name at the top of her voice and hurled herself into the dancer's arms.

"Hello, Your Highnesses," Catalina said as soon as the echo of Lila's shout died down enough for her voice to be heard. "How are you?"

"Ever so much better now that you're back!" the little girl said. "Why did you go away for so long?"

"You know their schedule, Lila," Emma scolded mildly. "They have other little girls to teach, too. They only stay here for half the summer."

"I am afraid it is true," Catalina said. "But do you want to know a secret?" At Lila's nod, she continued in a stage whisper, "You are my favorite student."

Lila couldn't help but giggle. The other dancers introduced themselves, and the lesson began.

Catalina led them all together through the warm-ups, and then split the girls for the lesson, keeping the older two, and sending the younger two to the other end of the mirrors with Clara and Isabelle. Annabella and Emma were already wearing their pointe shoes, so she let them run the pointe drills while she worked with Lila and Brieanna. She reviewed what they had learned with their regular dance instructor over the year she had been gone, and reinforced it, before leaving the lesson in Clara and Isabelle's hands.

With the older girls, Tiana had done the same, and was watching them take leaps en pointe. For a long while, Catalina simply watched, taking mental notes. The princesses were excellent dancers; Catalina was sure that if they had been orphans, Rictadore would have snatched them up.

"Annabella,come stand at the mirror," she said eventually. The princess complied.

"When you are doing the grand jeté, you must angle your foot as you land," she said. "You are keeping them too parallel; it is more like fourth position." Catalina demonstrated in the mirror, her movements so precise, the wood in her pointe shoes hardly made a sound.

Annabella tried again, watching her reflection, but again her feet were incorrect, and she wobbled on her landing, off balance. Catalina looked to Elle and Tiana for help, but they were as lost as she.

Catalina sighed, closed her eyes, and performed the move again, focusing on the feeling of her limbs rather than how they looked. She tried agian to put it into words, but again the princess struggled.

Catalina's fingers twitched. She shocked herself - her hand longed for Rictadore's long, willowy staff. The staff he used to beat on the girls' feet if they were placed incorrectly, banging in time to the music until the dancer's feet were perfect. The idea of wanting to hurt someone - let alone a princess - was horrifying to Catalina. She thought she might be sick. But it was the only way she knew how to correct footwork.

"All right," she said, trying to hide the wobble in her voice. "Let's try something else. Face the mirror now, Your Highness, and watch your feet. We're going to do this at half speed, slower if we have to. I want you to find the exact spot your footwork starts to differ from mine."

They moved as one, breaking the leap into painfully slow pieces. Annabella's smooth, delicate brow was furrowed in concentration. Suddenly she froze, her knees bent and prepared to leap.

"Right here," she said, wobbling slightly. "My feet aren't as far apart as yours."

"Exactly!" Catalina cried, more excited about the fact that she hadn't become Rictadore than she was about Annabella's grand jeté.

About an hour into the lesson, the grand doors at the far end of the room opened. Catalina heard them but paid no mind, as she was busy steadying Emma as she balanced on one foot en pointe. The sudden touch on her shoulder made her jump, nearly pushing over the princess.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

It was the Crown Prince Luke himself, smiling down at Catalina with his brown eyes shining. She couldn't tell if he was amused at her reaction or not.

"It was my fault, Your Highness," Catalina said demurely, curtseying as best she could with Emma gripping her arm. She was remembering all of Rictadore's sternly enforced lectures on interactions with royalty and nobility.

"No, it wasn't. It was entirely my fault. I shouldn't have scared you like that," Prince Luke said.

Catalina stood waiting for him to say more, but he was looking at her with such an intensity that she stood frozen to her spot. Eventually he said again, "I'm sorry."

"It's all right," Catalina heard herself saying. A part of her was screaming that it was wrong, she couldn't say it was the fault of the Crown Prince of all people, but that was not the part controlling her mouth.

He continued to gaze at her, Catalina unable to tear her eyes away from his. He really was quite handsome; she had had so few close encounters with the prince, and so hadn't been able to admire him so closely before. People always said it was so, and one could tell from a distance, but to actually see for herself his high, smooth cheekbones, full lips, and huge expressive eyes - was that flecks of gold around his pupils? - was a different experience entirely. Catalina felt transfized. Oddly enough, she could tell that he didn't feel at all put off by her staring.

She snapped out of it when the prince spoke again, moving his eyes to encompass the rest of the room. "Anyway, I'm here to get my sisters. We're needed in the throne room."

"Oh, but we've only just begun!" Lila cried.

Prince Luke smiled at his baby sister. "I know, pet. But Father says it's very important."

All the princesses' faces fell. The dancers looked at each other, sparkles in their eyes. It felt good to be so appreciated.

"Don't fret," Elle said, bending down to Lila's level. "You can have a double lesson tomorrow, if you like."

"Yay!" Lila cheered.

"Are you going to the dinner tonight?" Brieanna asked.

"But of course!" Clara said. "What else shall we do but make the young princesses glad and fulfull their every wish?"

The girls giggled at her theatrics. "I look forward to it," Prince Luke said, before ushering his sisters from the ballroom.

"Oooh, Catalina!" Elle squealed as soon as the dancers were alone.

"What?"

"Did you see the way Prince Luke looked at you?" Clara continued.

"Yes, well, what of it?" Catalina asked as she pretended to fuss with her hair in the mirror. "He apologized for scaring me."

"But do you know what it means?" Elle said anxiously.

"That he's a gentleman."

"No!" Tiana joined in. "Well, yes he is, but do you know what his eyes said?"

"That I'm far too high strung?" Catalina could feel her face getting hot.

"It means he likes you!" All three girls cried at once.

"Oh, please," Catalina scoffed, her face on fire.

"Look at her blush!" Clara pointed and laughed.

"It has to be true," Tiana continued, "Whenever we're here, he asks how you are. By name."

By name? No one ever remembered their individual names. "Impossible! He hardly ever speaks to me." Catalina closed the drapes over the mirrors so she couldn't see her blushing face or her hopeful eyes.

"He's finally worked up the courage," Elle said. "Oh, it's so romantic!"

"Admit it, you like him," Clara teased, poking at Catalina until she stopped walking and whirled on them.

"All right!" Catalina threw her hands in the air. "I like him. I have for a while. But it doesn't leave this room! You understand?"

The three nodded eagerly, their grins reaching from ear to ear, but Catalina knew the entire troupe would know before tonight's performance. Tiana hugged her, and Elle clapped her hands as she skipped on ahead.

"Oh, it's so romantic!"


	2. Chapter 2

Rictadore's staff beat a steady rhythm as his eleven dancers rehearsed in their studio before him. They moved like clockwork, in perfect unison, never straying from his beat. This had been his lifelong dream, and it was nearly achieved, after two decades of hard work and well-earned money. He had a troupe of young women capable of making him plenty of profit. Not only did these girls support his day-to-day life, but they were also crucial to his secret, nighttime persuits as well.

Knowing the girls didn't even need a rehearsal, nor his supervision, Rictadore let his mind wander. He thought about the girl who had vanished, Melanie, and his mood darkened. He knew full well that she didn't get along with the others, but she was one of his best dancers. The dances were choreographed for two leading dancers; having Catalina dance both roles was putting a strain on the entire troupe. Even worse, they were now at an odd number. Unless they always had a soloist, they could not divide evenly by any number; one girl would always have to sit backstage. It was unendingly irritating, not to mention time consuming, to restructure the dances. And an odd number was not good for what Rictadore had in mind for the future...not at all...

But, all was well. Catalina was proving to be excellent at the management of the troupe and the choreography. He wondered how her talents could have stayed hidden in Melanie's shadow for so long. And with one less girl to maintain, well, Rictadore was making a little extra profit.

Rictadore ended rehearsal an hour before the Twelve Swans were due to perform. It was now that he gave them their reportoire for the evening. He withheld giving it as long as possible in order to avoid complaints. The girls were silent, and maintained the silence until he left the studio.

Jessica let out a frustrated scream through clenched teeth as soon as the door shut behind Rictadore. "He gave us all the boring ballets! I refuse to believe the king and queen prefer the damsal-in-distress stuff."

"It's what he wants," Elizabeth, ever the peace keeper, said quietly. "We just have to do it."

"At least we have the partner dance!" Isabelle said cheerily. "Hurry up and dress, girls, we've got dashing young men to catch!"

The partner dance was indeed the only thing keeping tonight's performances interesting. Usually they only performed the partner dance when they joined together with other dance troupes that had male dancers, as the four girls were supposed to choose partners out of the audiance and pull them onstage. The male dancers would sit in the crowd and simply wait. Of course, it was a lot more fun to do it as they would tonight: with random audience members. The girls not performing the dance would go to the audience before the show began, choose a man, and give him a fresh-picked flower to wear in his lapel. The flowers matched the crowns worn by the dancers; this was how each dancer identified her partner. Sometimes the matches were silly, like old men or even other ladies of the court who would have a laugh. Other times, they were petty acts of revenge, especially against Melanie, or when a rival troupe was doing the matchmaking.

Catalina and the rest of the Twelve Swans pulled on their costumes for the first dance. Isabelle led a group of girls armed with lapel blooms out into the dance hall to pick partners. As Catalina threw aside her day-dress, she heard the crinkle of paper in its pocket.

"Oh - Ivy!" she called. "Letter for you!"

Ivy squealed with delight and blushed as red as a peony. Julia took the flower from her and left, knowing she wouldn't see Ivy until places.

"I'm sorry, dear, I forgot all about it," Catalina explained, as she handed over the envelope.

"It's fine!"

Catalina couldn't help but smile back as Ivy flashed her a positively dazzling grin, and floated off to read her letter.

The missive was from her suitor, Lord Eric Braeson. They had met three years ago when the Twelve Swans had performed for the first time at the Braeson manor. Ivy had been smitten from their first introductions, and it seemed Eric was, too, until Rictadore forbade them from seeing each other. Ivy had been sixteen and absolutely heartbroken. She was the youngest of the troupe, and being two years older, Catalina felt an older sister's responsibility. She made sure Eric was serious in his intentions - after all, he was only a year older than Ivy. Then she had allowed him to write letters to Ivy addressed to Catalina, under the name of an old friend who had recently stopped correspondence after her marriage. The arrangement worked out exceptionally well; as a favorite, Rictadore allowed Catalina to send and receive letters, and he had never questioned the three-month gap from when the real letters stopped and Eric's began. More importantly to Catalina, the regular letters meant Eric's feelings were just as strong as Ivy's. In fact, each time the couple saw each other once a year, the entire troupe could see how deeply in love they were.

"Is everyone ready?" Catalina asked, hoping to clear out and give Ivy some privacy.

Fortuately, Ivy was everyone's surrogate baby sister, and they fairly fled the studio.

As predicted, Ivy didn't reappear until it was just in time for places for the first ballet. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes sparkled ini a way that was infectious; so when the curtain rolled up, everyone's smiles were genuine.

The boring ballet Rictadore had picked was the over-done story of a princess cursed by a witch to a hundred years of sleep. It was a bit difficult to do with only eleven girls, but they had modified it long ago, and knew it better than the full-troupe arrangement. Catalina was dancing the role of the princess, and Tiana was the witch who cursed her. Elle was the beautiful fairy who saved the princess with a good spell, instead of a prince's kiss, as they didn't have any boys to dance the part. Usually Catalina and Melanie split the role of princess, as she grows up over the course of the ballet and therefore changes slightly. Now, Catalina had to make do with a complete costume change and a different hairstyle.

The ballet lasted nearly two hours. Catalina saw the young princess Lila stay utterly transfixed throughtout the entire performance, which was quite a feat for the energetic little girl. It was for her that Catalina danced; the rest of the room faded. Dancing for two hours in the lead role after yesterday was torturous, but she knew she couldn't let Lila down. She blew a kiss to the princess as she took her final bows.

Catalina nearly collapsed backstage as she watched the others set up for the partner dance. She didn't want to move, let alone fumble her way around some member of the king's court to make him look like a good dancer.

Violet and Lily, the twins, reached out their hands to pull her up. They have already changed, and Lily had Catalina's costume over her shoulder. Catalina groaned and took their hands. "Melanie had better have the best excuse."

The partner dance began to hushed applause. Violet, Lily, Tiana, Ivy, and Catalina pranced onstage, wearing gauzy white skirts and gold bodices. Each girl danced around each other, pretending to be having a stroll through a meadow. Occasionally, they bent down, miming picking flowers, until they had each made themselves a crown. The twins had their namesakes, of course. Tiana's was made of gerber daisies, Ivy's of carnations and ivy, and Catalina's of dark red roses.

After dancing about with their crowns, they left the stage one by one to hunt down their partners. Lily left first, and a gasp escaped the crowd as it always did. She picked her way delicately through the chairs, looking for a white-lilied lapel. She found it on the breast of a young page, who blushed as red as his hair when Lily took his hands and pulled him onstage. Violet went next, and then Tiana, and finally Ivy and Catalina, together.

Catalina went through the audiance, doing her best to be dramatically desperate. Just because the other girls had gotten handsome young men didn't mean she was going to be as lucky. By now the audience had caught on, and began subtly directing her towards a man with a rose.

A faint, bitten-off squeak sounded to her left. Catalina turned and saw Ivy with none other than Lord Eric Braeson himself, a pink-tipped carnation sprouting on his breast. Ivy's face was red, but calm professionalism was all a part of performing, and she mounted the stage with no more breaks in character.

Catalina wondered who had been the lucky girl to spot Lord Eric in the crowd that evening. And then, what were the odds that they were dancing the partner dance today? Surely, it was an act of God - just as Ivy and Eric were destined to be together.

Catalina continued her hunt, now thinking that in the excitement over Lord Eric, they had forgotten about her partner. A lady-in-waiting tapped her arm, then pointed to the back of the room. Catalina's heart skipped a beat, then restarted at double pace.

Her red rose rested on the vest of none other than Crown Prince Luke.

He was standing near the door, in conversation with his mother, the queen. His vest was a deep chocolate brown, a color Catalina instantly recognized as one to match his eyes, right down to the gold accents. A gold circlet rested atop a head of brown-black curls. His boots glistened like the reflective surface of a lake in the flickering lamplight. The prince spoke with his whole body: his hands moving, his eyes locked into those of his mother, his body language open and inviting conversation. He was so passionate, so enthralled with what the queen was saying, that Catalina had no idea how she was going to interrupt. But the music was calling to her, tugging at her limbs, and Rictadore's eyes were burning her back.

People had followed Catalina's gaze and began whispering to each other, but the dancer blocked out everything but the music and the prince. Thankfully, the queen noticed her coming and tapped Prince Luke's shoulder, a smile on her face. That smile alone was enough to give Catalina the courage to follow through with the dance. If the queen thought it was all right for her son and heir to dance with a common working girl like herself, even just for a laugh, then Catalina could care less what the rest of the court thought.

Prince Luke was smiling, too, when Catalina took his hand and pulled him towards the stage. To her utter surprise, he bounded up in a single leap and then put his hands around her waist, lifting Cataline onstage as easily as if she had been Lila. Catalina felt her cheeks grow warm at the excited, genuine grin on the prince's face. She wanted to stand still and bask in its light, despite the strange feeling in her stomach.

Luckily, her feet knew the dance without prompting. Catalina led the prince into the circle of couples and began leading him in a dance that was half ballet, half ballroom waltz. Prince Luke surprised her for the second time in as many minutes by quickly learning the steps and taking the lead.

Cataline did something that would earn her a beating from Rictadore's staff if it went poorly: she let the prince take control of the dance. The girls were never supposed to do that, no matter how good a dancer their partner was. But then, none of them had ever danced with the crown prince before, either. And yet, somehow, Catalina instinctively knew it was the right decision to make.

The other girls gave her wide-eyed looks as Catalina and Prince Luke sailed by them (well, except for Ivy, as she was too busy gazing at Lord Eric). Catalina could only smile in return. She was going to have revenge on whoever had given the prince her rose!

Keeping with the beat, Prince Luke began a series of steps that Catalina recognized instantly for what they were. She grinned. Rictadore would not beat her, after all.

Prince Luke spun her away from him, and when she spun back, she kept her back to him rather than face him in hold position as everyone else was doing. Catalina kept her arms up; his hands touched the back of hers in a feather-light caress. Their feet moved in perfect unison, pale pink pointe shoes contrasting sharply against inky black boots. They arrived at center stage. Prince Luke's hands moved to Catalina's waist.

He lifted her up in the air, not exceptionally high, but high enough to be noticed with a gasp by the audience. Catalina lifted her arms to arch over her head, pointing her toes and curving her fingers delicately. No one imagined their prince to be such an excellent dancer!

Prince Luke brought them back into the circle, but when they got to center stage, he stopped. As if she had somehow read his mind, Catalina knew what to do. She rose up en pointe on one foot and began a pirouette. His hands spun her waist round and round, counting in time to the waltzing music. The audience applauded.

Catalina looked at her fellow dancers as they went around the circle again, silently encouraging them to take a turn in the spotlight. The twins did some leaps that resulted in a change of partners; Ivy balanced in an arabesqué on Lord Eric's hands; Tiana and her partner the gran jeté.

The music climaxed; the dance was coming to an end. The girls began a series of tight pirouettes, followed by pas de chats, tiptoeing around their partners while the men stood stationary. Dancing next to Ivy and Lord Eric, Catalina could practically feel the emotions coming off them, as Eric stood and watched his beloved. Ivy had a permanent blush, but her smile never wavered.

The music faded, and the girls sank into the Heart's Curtsey, the same Catalina had ended last night's performances with. Their ankles twisted, their knees bent and disappeared perfectly under their skirts, their backs bent and their arms crossed over their bodices. Catalina found it incredibly difficult to tear her eyes away from Prince Luke's. It was almost physically painful. Butterflies rose in her stomach, and her heart skipped another beat.

The applause echoed throughout the ballroom. Each couple took several bows before Rictadore mounted the stage to claim some for himself. Catalina found herself looking back at the prince, and the pain and butterflies instantly fled.

"That was excellent fun!" he said. The grin hadn't left his face yet. "In fact, I can't remember the last time I had fun at one of these state dinners."

"It was my pleasure, Your Highness," Catalina answered, curtseying.

"No, the pleasure was mine," Prince Luke said. He took her hand, bowed low, and kissed it.

The butterflies were back in full force, with friends.

"I hope perhaps to do this again sometimes, Catalina."

He knew her name! In her shock, Catalina didn't check her tongue. "As do I."

Prince Luke smiled again. Catalina felt her tired legs grow weaker. He clasped her hand in both of his for a moment, before stepping off the stage into a crowd of curious courtiers.

Catalina was suddenly pushed from behind through the backstage and all the way to the dance studio, where the ten girls had congregated. Elizabeth squealed when she entered.

"You two were so cute together!"

Catalina snapped out of her trance. "It was you who gave him my flower!"

"I had to!" Elizabeth protested. "It's obvious he likes you."

"Everyone keeps saying that," Catalina threw her hands in the air. "I have seen no evidence! The prince hardly speaks to me!"

"He's shy," Tiana chimed in. "But he knows your name."

It was true. It had been hard to believe, but he had just used it to her face. Catalina felt yet another blush beginning.

She decided that a change of subject was in order. There was only one other the girls would willingly accept. "Well, who was it who found Lord Eric?"

"Me!" cried Clara. The girls immediately turned to her to hear the story. Catalina was saved, for the time being. "I couldn't believe it at first. I had to stare for an entire five minutes, and even after that I had to ask his name, just to be sure. And oh, he was so excited that we were dancing tonight!"

Ivy didn't look like she had heard a word. She was humming the music of the partner dance, a dreamy look on her face. When she walked, it appeared as if she were floating. Ivy glided over to Clara and hugged her, before disappearing in the direction of her room. Some of the girls sighed, and others laughed to themselves.

"Oh, it's so romantic," Elle gushed. "For both of you!"

Catalina let a sigh of contentment leave her. Her body felt cold without the prince beside her, his strong, large hands guiding her with the faintest of touches. He had been so easy to follow, as if their minds had forged a bond that didn't need words or gestures to understand each other. And they had only danced for ten minutes! Her hand tingled where Prince Luke's cool lips had touched her skin. It felt good to be noticed by the man she had quietly admired from afar for so long, even if only for a short while.

Just then, the clock in the corner struck the quarter hour. All the girls jumped and fell silent, counting the chimes. Eleven forty-five.

"Come along, girls, quickly." Catalina forced all thoughts of the dashing Prince Luke from her mind.

The girls rushed to their sitting room, smoothing hair, straightening skirts, and tightening shoes. All teasing and whispereing ended for the night. Elle ran to get Ivy, who emerged with a tear-stained face.

Catalina couldn't bear to look at Ivy, or any of the girls for that matter, for she knew they all felt the same way. She turned her back on them, only to find herself staring out the window. The full moon gazed back mockingly. Catalina wished she could rip it right out of the sky.

Since she couldn't, she only glared, glad that by tomorrow a small sliver of black would blemish that perfect white sphere. Catalina turned again to face the tapestry on the wall that she hated as much as the moon.

It depicted a forest, and not a happy one, either. The threads were dyed dark, ominous hues, so that the trees appeaered nearly black, and the foliage hid animals and thieves out of sight. A full moon of silver stitching hung in a midnight-blue sky, and was relfected in the rippling waters of a black lake. Several boats were on the lake, with glowing lanterns illuminating only a part of the way into the woods.

Catalina took a breath, braced herself, and then traced the gold outline of the tapestry with her finger. The threads began to glow, and Catalina's hand tingled, although not like it had when Prince Luke kissed it. This burned, like when her hand had fallen asleep and is only just awakening to pins and needles. The sensation traveled up her arm and settled in her shoulder. Grimacing, Catalina nonetheless carried on. This was by far the easiest part of the night.

The golden path began to glow and sparkle. The forest scene rippled, a lake disrupted by a stone. Soon it became nearly too bright to look at. Squinting, Catalina squared her shoulders and stepped into the tapestry. One by one, the girls followed, Ivy bringing up the rear. With another flash of golden light, the tapestry returned to normal, and the room was empty.

A/N: So what do you think so far? Let me know in the reviews! Just a few words will do, so I know someone's following.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: In honor of my two followers/reviewers, I present two chapters in one night! Thanks you guys!**

**The girls raced through the forest, following the familiar, well-beaten path. They couldn't afford to be late. Besides, they had seen the exotic trees one too many times for them to be alluring.**

** They reached the boats just in time. The long, elegant sea crafts were captained by tall, cloaked figures that left the shores at midnight precisely, with or without the dancers. There was no other to get across the lake, and if a dancer didn't make it across the lake - she was in trouble.**

** Catalina stared sullenly at the mysterious paddler of her little boat. They never spoke, nor lifted their downcast heads from the shadows of their hoods. On particularly depressing trips such as tonight, Catalina wondered if they even had faces. **

** The trip across the lake took only ten minutes. At the opposite shore, the girls disembarked and continued on through more woods. There wasn't a sound coming from any of them, not even a sniffle. They were resigned to their fate. This strip was woods was much smaller than the first, ending rather abruptly at an elaborate gate. The wrought-iron was twisted into curving vines and flowers. At the top of the gates were two swans, facing each other, their necks arching to form a heart. They swung open of their own accord.**

** Beyond the gates lay a brightly lit courtyard, nearly the size of the royal ballroom. At the centre was a circle of smoothly paved stones in varying colors and shades, every night depicting a different form. Tonight, it resembled a deep red rose in full bloom. Catalina quickly blocked out the image of a rose on Prince Luke's lapel. She directed her attention to the gardens surrounding the pavillion. They were immacculately groomed, with every flower known to man in full, perfect bloom, as always. There were no stone benches scattered about as one would normally find in gardens of this size, though. They were also deserted.**

** "We made it," Tiana whispered.**

** "Barely," Catalina whispered back. "We can't be this close ever again."**

** Tiana didn't have a chance to respond, for at that moment, Rictadore materialized at the centre of the pavilion. The girls immediately formed a half circle around him. They had long since stopped wondering how he could do such a thing.**

** "Dancers," Rictadore said formally.**

** "Maestro."**

** "The Orientals to begin." He beat his staff on the ground. The noise echoed at an unnatural volume, and the Swans scurried to their places. Music began to play from an invisible orchestra - or perhaps there was no orchestra at all. Catalina could never tell. Soon, she had no brainpower to wonder - the music was enchanting, bewitching. Her mind and body were totally and wholly absorbed in dance.**

** Time accelerated and dragged all at the same time. Catalina lost track of the number of dances they performed, but each dance passed by in a blur. It mattered not; she had been performing these secret dances for years. They never said they could dance them in their sleep, for they surely would sleep if it were possible.**

** Soon, Rictadore reappeared to slam his staff again. The enchanting music finally ended. Catalina's legs trembled and her feet burned.**

** "Dismissed," Rictadore said, as if they were attending afternoon rehearsals. The girls curtseyed to him, holding their position until a rush of air told them Rictadore had disappeared.**

** Exhausted, the dancers made their way back to the boats, too tired to even complain. It was impossible to sleep on the boat for the unnerving presence of their escorts.**

** Trudging through the wood, her back to the lake and the hated pavilion, Catalina's left leg finally gave out, and she fell, hard. She heard a shriek and wondered if it was her own. There was an odd sensation in the toe of her left shoe.**

** Elizabeth and Ivy pulled her to a sitting position. "Are you all right?" **

** Catalina flexed her ankle. "Yes. But - oh, I've torn a hole through my shoe." There was a coin-sized hole in the bottom the frayed satin pointe shoe.**

** The rest of the girls checked their own shoes, and surprise registered on their faces when they, too, found holes.**

** "Our shoes have never worn through before," Elle said. It was true; not even two weeks of a full moon had caused wear and tear on their shoes. Perhaps the stones in the pavilion were enchanted.**

** "No matter," Elizabeth said. "We'll mend them in the morning. It's time for bed."**

** A little further, and they arrived at an oak tree with a large hollow. Catalina knocked on the trunk beside the opening. It glowed briefly, and the dancers stepped through to their sitting room, another torturous moon cycle completed.**

**Catalina's leg throbbed.**

** They were in the ballroom the next day, giving the princesses their promised double lesson. Her leg pained her almost as much as it had when she had first been injured, but she was hiding it. It didn't help that the holes in their dance shoes were sleepily repaired, and the stitches could be felt with every turn. Pointe shoes were so difficult to mend! And Catalina was sure that Rictadore would not give them any money to replace them until the end of the summer at least. But all the dancers decided that the struggles were worth it as soon as they saw the princesses' beaming faces and praises of last night's performance.**

** "I just checked the charts," Elle whispered in Catalina's ear. "No full moon tonight."**

** "Perhaps there is a God," Catalina answered. Elle looked surprised at the un-Cat like force in her reply, but Catalina was too tired to care anymore.**

** The freeness that always followed the end of the moon cycle inspired the girls into a flurry of productivity. The dance lessons were crammed with exciting new steps and techniques, costumes were mended with record speed, and all their storage trunks were organized. A skip was in everyone's step, and a charming smile greeted even the nastiest of nobles.**

** Catalina was bringing the lesson to an end, despite Lila's groans. "Miss Cat, I can keep going. I want to keep going."**

** "I know you can," Catalina answered. "But unfortunately, not everyone is as young as you are."**

** "You aren't that old!" Brieanna insisted.**

** "You're younger than Luke," Emma chimed in.**

** "Lukie's old," Lila said. "He's twenty-five!"**

** "Now, now," a voice said. Catalina whirled around to see the prince standing behind her yet again. "You girls ought to know never to talk to a lady about her age. And if twenty-five is old, pet, what on earth do you consider Mother and Father?"**

** Lila paused as if she had never thought about it before, making everyone else laugh. Catalina tried to calm her pounding heart. How was it that the prince could always sneak up on her like that? Then again, he did have the silent help of all the other dancers.**

** "I wish to thank you again for a wonderful time last night," Prince Luke was saying.**

** Catalina felt herself blush. "Oh - it was nothing, really."**

** Prince Luke's grin was dazzling. Catalina's heartrate sped right back up. "In return, I would like to invite you to dinner tonight."**

** Catalina found that all she could do was nod. She was lost in those flecks of gold in the prince's eyes. After what seemed a blissful eternity, he broke away and said, "Of course, that includes all the dancers."**

** "Yay!" Emma cheered, glad that she would know at least some of the people at dinner tonight.**

** "Thank you, Your Highness," Elle said, and they all curtseyed. He bowed, gathered Lila on his arm, and left.**

** "Ooh, Cat!" Julia said, "You've got it bad! And so does he!"**

** Catalina closed her eyes and sighed, wondering if she would ever live this down.**


	4. Chapter 4

Catalina had no time to really stop and consider Prince Luke's invitation until ten minutes before they were expected in the dining hall. She was too busy answering the girls' nosy questions about the prince, and avoiding Rictadore's unusual stare during afternoon lessons. Then it seemed that everyone needed her help dressing for dinner in their ever-changing wardrobe. Rictadore often sold some of their finer dresses without warning, for seemingly no reason whatsoever. Today, for example, Tiana couldn't find her pale green gown that had been her favorite for years. With its fine satin overskirt, everyone knew it had been sold. The poor girl was in tears until Catalina managed to unearth a dark green dress of similar style. Then she had to give her opinion on various sashes and shoes, and listen to Ivy wonder and worry about which style Eric preferred her hair, until Catalina sat her down and styled it herself. It was a new style, one she was sure Eric had never seen Ivy in before, and was certain to garner a compliment.

When at last Catalina was alone to dress herself, she allowed a moment to think about the prince. Their dance the other night had been magical, and earlier today it did seem as if he was originally inviting only her. And, oh, she hoped he liked her dress. Catalina had actually picked her gown with care, instead of taking whatever the other girls had left. As she brushed her hair, she allowed herself to daydream about him, trying to get it out of her system before tonight. If Rictadore saw her making eyes at any man, she would be in quite a bit of trouble.

The girls followed Rictadore down the halls, the fashionable splendor of his clothes outshining even eleven young women. His crisp white shirt was made of the finest silk, and he wore a black velvet waistcoat. His jacket was cut in the latest style, and he wore a new top hat. The buckles on his new leather shoes appeared to be made of real silver. The girls knew exactly where most of their earnings went, and Tiana's dress.

They were greeted by a footman at the doorway of the dining hall, who led them to their seats at the long table. They were seated surprisingly close to the royal dais. Catalina wondered how many nobles and politicians would be angry at the dancing troupe tonight. Also, she would have an excellent view of Prince Luke.

Slowly, the room filled with dignitaries and other people of the court. The royal family filed in almost unnoticed; King William was not one for fanfares and ceremony. He was dressed as simply as one could be at a royal banquet. Queen Victoria was dressed in a rich red gown, Annabella in lavendar, and Emma in sky blue. The other two were too young to attend. None of them wore their crowns or circlets, and the cut of their clothes was simple yet elegant. In fact, Jessica pointed out several stuck-up and tacky nobles who were adorned with more jewels and silks than the entire royal family, Rictadore included.

Catalina, however, felt her eyes drawn to the prince. He was dressed almost exactly like his father, in a dark green vest and white shirt underneath. She thought she would slip the night away mostly unnoticed, and in fact would have been content to do so, but Prince Luke caught her eye almost immediately. His smile widened and he winked.

"He was looking for you!" Elle whispered in Catalina's ear. "Did you see his eyes scanning the tables?"

Catalina admitted she hadn't. On her other side, Tiana grabbed her arm. "Look, he's taking the leftmost seat."

When Catalina didn't respond to this, she huffed impatiently and explained, "It's so he can see your face clearly. You're nearly in direct line of sight with each other."

Elle murmured something about romance under her breath as Rictadore shot them a silencing glare. Fortunately, their noisy chatter had distracted him from seeing Ivy and Eric's gazes meet.

Dinner began soon after that. Rictadore immediately began rubbing elbows with the wealthy, and promptly forgot all about his dancers. But the people sitting nearby them found the young women to be quite charming, and kindly answered any etiquette questions they had. This was how the girls had always gotten by.

In between courses, Catalina could feel the prince's eyes on her. As much as she longed to meet his gaze, she was sitting far too close to Rictadore. The girls had cleverly arranged themselves so that Ivy was the furthest from Rictadore, and free to gaze upon Eric. But every so often, Catalina would lift her eyes up to the head of the table. Often, she would catch a glimps of Prince Luke in animated conversation with his father, laughing at something Annabella said, or discreetly playing with his food to get picky Emma to try it. Other times, Catalina would catch him looking right at her. Their eyes would lock, like wandering travelers finally getting a drink of water, until something would call their attention away.

And the courses themselves were enough to attract anyone's attention. Everything from soups to salads to meats was arranged beautifully on the plate, creating an image so detailed, it was often difficult to eat and break the picture. But once the food was tasted, there was no regretting the decision. The flavors were rich, artfully defined with spices and herbs, and cooked to perfection. The meats melted on the tongue as if they were puddings. The soup was at just the perfect temperature - hot enough to warm the soul, but not to burn. All of the dishes were light and airy, like the beautiful summer night outside. At the end of the eight-course meal, all of the girls knew they had never eaten so well before. Most of their meals were castoffs from the kitchens of whatever manor they were staying at, or the cheap, coarse food the theatre could provide.

The king stood as everyone was enjoying sweetmeats and custards, and tapped his spoon on his wineglass. "Good evening everyone! I am very glad you could all attend, and hoped you enjoyed your meal."

Tiana leaned over and hissed, "Wise move. Make a speech now while everyone's full and in a good move, rather than earlier when we were crabby and hungry."

"He is the king," was all Catalina had to say.

"Now we all know why we are really here," King William was saying, "and it is not to enjoy a meal surrounded by friends. Although, we did indulge ourselves, did we not?" He earned several chuckles at that, but soon grew sober. "No, it is instead to discuss something far graver, and that is the afteraffects of our recent war.

"We fought against the tyrannical country of Sylstran for six long years, after they invaded our southern border. It was not an easy war, and it came at the cost of men's lives. Our victory is due to the bravery, courage and patriotism of all our people - men, women, and children."

"And Luke!" Emma interrupted. Suddenly realizing what she had done, the princess went red and murmured, "I apologize, Papa."

The king smiled. "You are right, my daughter. My son Luke did fight in the war, but not as just a prince, but as an equal soldier. He is also to be commended for his bravery in battle, as all veterans are."

Someone began clapping, and soon the entire hall was ringing with applause. Catalina looked from Tiana to Elle, only to see the surprise she felt reflected in their faces. Everyone knew the prince had been involved in the war, but everyone assumed it was under the role of a prince's duty, not as a simple soldier.

Prince Luke stood and bowed modestly, looking a bit uncomfortable beneath his smile.

King William continued, "The war is over, and Sylstran has been given a fair and just ruler once again. But a lot of work still needs to be done. Cities both here in Allar and Sylstran were destroyed, crops were burned, and towns were pillaged. There are some of you here tonight with the skills and the resources to help solve all of the problems that come with peacetime, and I thank you in advance for your generosity.

"But as for the rest of you," the king broke out into a smile. "there will be music and dancing in celebration!"

Another cheer rose up. Footmen appeared to direct the guests to the ballroom. Catalina caught Prince Luke's eye as she was led away, but she could not tell if he would be dancing tonight. Surely he would be; why would he go to the trouble of personally inviting her if he was going to be in a military meeting the whole time? No, he wouldn't be so inconsiderate.

Catalina had only seen the ballroom in its full glory from the stage, where her eyes were dazzled by the bright lights. Now, she and the other girls were free to gawk. The drapes had been pulled back, and the windows cleaned, so even though it was falling darker outside, the lamplight reflected in the floor-to-ceiling panes. The mirrors on the opposite wall had been polished, too, so that the dancers might catch glimpses of themselves as they swirled about the floor, and ladie fix their hair and gowns. The floor itself was buffed and polished to a mirror-like shine to rival the mirrors. Brightly colored paper lanterns hung from the ceiling, sending flashes of color through the massive crystal chandelier. Catalina was reminded of a drawing of the planets and how they circled the sun.

However, the Twelve - or rather, Eleven - Swans were not left to gawk for long. Many of the people in attendance had seen their performance last night, and men of all ages began asking for dances as soon as the music started. Eric quickly claimed the blushing Ivy, and the page from the partner dance shyly took Lily's hand. Catalina and the rest of the girls soon found themselves with partners, and knew it would be a rare moment tonight when they would be without one.

Ballroom dancing was a welcome respite from the relentelss ballet, though. They were a lot more relaxed, and demanded less perfection, although it was impossible not to be graceful and elegant with their upbringing. More importantly, Rictadore would not stay long. He would deter a few hopeful ladies by saying all the grace and poise lay within his proteges, and then disappear into the card rooms all night.

The first dance set ended. Catalina had already had six different partners, which was even a lot for her. But then she saw Ivy and Eric still dancing, and knew why. It took courage to ask a man to cut in during a dance, and no brave soul had enough to try and break up such a look of love.

Princess Annabella appeared at Catalina's side, her face glowing. She had already danced with several dashing young men, and the normally shy girl flourished under the attention. "Catalina! It is so good to see you enjoying yourself."

Catalina eyed the men, only slightly scattered on the opposite side of the room, all anxiously waiting for the princess to leave so that they might try their luck. She smiled; to her surprise, she was having a good time. "Thank you for inviting me, Your Highness."

"Oh, it was for entirely selfish reasons. I wanted some friends. It's Emma's first formal dance, so I'm afraid she isn't much for conversation tonight."

Catalina remembered her first ball and chuckled. When she hadn't been dancing, a combination of nerves and excitement had created a lump in her throat, preventing her from speaking.

"Besides, I do believe I have my brother to thank for inviting you," Annabella said with a knowing smile.

"Oh, no, not you too!" Catalina groaned. "I thought eleven sisters was more than enough!"

Annabella laughed but gratefully dropped the subject. "I came to see how all of you are faring. Mama says I must practise being a good hostess, for when I have my own balls." She noticed all of the attention the Swans were getting, and a small wrinkle appeared on her brow. "Shall I...call all of the other available ladies to attention?"

Catalina couldn't help but laugh a little at the delicate, proper way the princess had phrased the situation. "If you can - although I must warn you, it shall be a challenge."

Princess Annabella straightened her shoulders and smoothed her lavender skirts. "Well, then, it is a good thing I enjoy a challenge!" With that, she strode purposefully off towards the groups of hopeful men, and began pointing out several ladies who had sat out most of the dancing for lack of partners.

To her surprise, Catalina noticed a decline in the amount of partner changes as the night went on. The other girls felt it, too. When Tiana gave her a quizzical glance across the dance floor, Catalina subtlely directed her to the eldest princess, who was currently saving Lily and her page from interruption by offering to dance with the man herself. It was certainly much more relaxing not to have to worry about making sure every man who asked got his five moments of glory around the floor. Catalina wondered how they could possibly repay Annabella.

For all her dance partners, Catalina had not yet seen the one she longed to dance with - Prince Luke. there had been no sign of anyone from the meeting since dinner almost three hours before.

"He isn't coming," Catalina told Elle during a brief respite.

"Perhaps he didn't know it would take all night," Elle said gently. "It was so romantic, his invitation - as if he was just asking you and not all of us."

Catalina nodded, feeling her heart sink into her dancing shoes. She had not realized how much she wanted to talk - and dance - with the prince until he had slipped from her sight.

"Besides, now you get to see him tomorrow, when he apologizes!" Elle called over her shoulder as she was escorted back to the dance floor.

The thought was enough for the smile on Catalina's face to be genuine as she turned to answer the all-too familiar tap to the shoulder. It was replaced by a look of shock when she saw Prince Luke standing beside her. Her face heated, wondering how long he had been standing there - and how much he had heard.

"Hello," she managed to whisper.

"Hello yourself," Prince Luke replied. His eyes sparkled as if there were real gold in them reflecting the lamplight.

Without another word, he slipped her hand into his arm and began escorting her across the ballroom. Catalina expected that he wanted to dance. After all, the prince had just arrived. At the prospect, Catalina's feet felt lighter, and the neverending ache in her left leg subsided. But to her surprise, Prince Luke bypassed the swirl of dancers entirely and led her outside a pair of glass doors to the gardens.

The night air was cool. Catalina had not realized how hot the ballroom had been until she left it. Now, she wondered if she would be able to make herself go back inside. A gentle breeze played with the wisps of hair that had fallen from Catalina's intricately braided updo, courtsey of Isabelle. She smelled the sweet blossoms from all over the gardens on the wind.

"I thought perhaps you would enjoy a break from dancing," Prince Luke said quietly. He smiled at her. "Besides, I had my dance yesterday."

"It is very kind of you," Catalina answered, suddenly shy. "Thank you."

They strolled the gardens in silence for a few moments, although it was a pleasant and companionable quiet. It was dark, but the night sky was littered with bright stars, and several spherical lanterns cast off just enough light to see the path, and each other.

Prine Luke broke the silence. "I like your dress; it makes your eyes seem almost violet in this light."

Catalina wished she could stop blushing, but she was glad he had noticed. She had been thinking of him when she dressed, and he was the first man to pay her a compliment all night. The dress was a deep blue silk, edged on the collar, sleeves and hem with a thick gold ribbon. The sleeves draped at the elbow, and it had a scooped neckline that was modest in the front, but rather daring in the back - her shoulders and neck were exposed to the night air. The bodice had a V-shaped design in more gold ribbon. It was true that the color affected the shade of her eyes, for while originally they matched, the silk was embossed with black swirls and designs, darkening the color and giving it a blue-violet appearance.

"You look very nice as well," Catalina said.

Prince Luke looked down at his vest. "Well, that's good to hear. Emma says green is not my color."

Catalina began to loosen a little. "It doesn't matter if it's your color or not, you are still much better dressed than several people in attendance."

"The ladies too?"

"Most definetly."

He laughed out loud, and guided her around a bend in the path to a low stone bench. "This is my favorite spot," Prince Luke said. "If you look this way..." He turned around and Catalina followed his gaze.

They were facing the palace. It was lit up and bright, something out of a storybook. A candle flickered in every window, and laughter and music drifted out of the ballroom. The smooth white stone seemed to be alive.

"...and if you face the other way..."

Catalina turned back around, and let out a gasp. The city was below them, a sea of smaller lights and sleepy activity. Lights turned on and off, and quite noises came from the river that ran alongside the countless buildings to the east. Above them, the night sky was a mirror image, for the clouds of earlier in the day had disappeared. The moon had a small sliver taken from it, enough to ensure Catalina a few weeks of sleep. It was almost as if the city was a lake's reflection of the sky.

"There now. Two beautiful views for the price of one," Prince Luke said.

"I prefer this one," Catalina said in a hushed voice, still drinking it all in.

"Me, too," he answered, and Catalina could hear the smile in his voice. "Although, I am surprised to find how many people don't."

"Oh, how could they not?" she asked. "There is so much more to see...so much more life..."

"I know. The palace is just a building. This," Prince Luke swept one arm in the direction of the sleepy city, "is so much more. It is ordinary people, going about their ordinary lives. The heart and soul of the kingdom." He sighed, and Catalina thought she had never heard anyone sound so content.

"Do you ever wish you were ordinary? That you were not royalty?" The minute the words left her mouth, Catalina wished she could take them back. Who was she to be so forward with the crown prince?

Prince Luke was silent. Catalina opened her mouth to apologize when he spoke. "It is hard to say. Somethimes, I want to give up the responsibility of ruling a kingdom and be nothing but a simple shepherd." He gave a half-smile, which was impossible not to return. Allar was known for its wools and other fibres; the countryside was littered with sheep. "But then, I wonder how on earth I would manage. I have been pampered all my life; I wouldn't be able to keep house, let alone defend and care for sheep. I'm not half as hardworking as the laziest shepherd."

"I'm sure that's not true. I have met some lazy people in this kingdom."

The prince shrugged, as if he still wasn't so sure. "Then I think about Annabella, and my sisters. If I left to become the most inept shepherd in history, the kingdom falls to her. And perhaps I'm too overprotective, but I don't want her to worry about being responsible for the kingdom. So I stay the crown prince, and struggle through."

Catalina looked at him, his face half in shadow. She waited until he met her eyes before answering. "I don't think it is overprotective. I think it's very noble of you."

Time seemed to stop. All Catalina was aware of was Prince Luke's brown-and-gold-flecked eyes, staring deep into hers. They only flickered once, to land on her lips, and Catalina thought perhaps he was going to kiss her.

But then he smiled wryly, and the moment was broken. "Unfortunately, I think Annabella would disagree. She fancies herself quite capable."

Catalina looked away shyly. "She shan't hear it from me. But she probably is." She told him about his sister's hostessing skills.

The conversation took off from there. They talked about different pasttimes, odd relations and acquaintences, their travels. Catalina discovered that he had visited the strange town of Dubuo, a place Rictadore had taken them once for a week, only to never return. It was a little town bordering the thick forest, known for its peculiar customs and even more peculiar people. Prince Luke told her a hilarious anectdote involving him being chased by a goat and a man who believed himself to be a chicken.

"Needless to say," Prince Luke finished, trying to control his laughter enough to talk, "I left the next morning and never went back."

Catalina's stomach ached from so much laughter. She had never felt so comfortable with someone outside of her dance troupe before.

Prince Luke turned to look at the palace, then said, "I had best be returning you to the party. Annabella will be cross with me."

Catalina realized with a start just how much time had passed. She accepted the prince's hand and rose, hiding her stiff knee with the straightening of her skirts.

They reached the open glass doors, bright light and music spilling outside in a golden pool. Prince Luke paused a moment, bent, and pulled a pale pink rose off a bush. Carefully, he removed the thorns and handed it to Catalina.

"In return for the one you gave me," he said simply.

"Thank you." She felt that blush beginning again as she placed the bloom in her hair.

The ballroom was stiflingly hot and loud compared to the cool peace of the gardens. The prince expertly manuevered them through the knots of people and spinning dancers, nodding politely at thsoe who called out to him. Catalina felt their eyes on her and ducked her head. Several of those glances came from young women, and none of them were pleasant.

"Luke, darling!" came a voice. It made Catalina's heart stop.

Queen Victoria crossed the ballroom and came to her son's side. Prince Luke winked reassuringly at Catalina before kissing the queen's cheek. "Hello, Mother."

"My dear, where have you been? I've been looking all over for you."

"I have been giving Miss Torrez a tour of our gardens. Mother, I would like to introduce you to Miss Catalina Torrez. Miss Torrez, this is my mother."

Catalina swept her finest curtsey. "Your Majesty, it is an honor to meet you." Her heart pounded nervously under the queen's gaze.

But Queen Victoria smiled. "Why, if it isn't the lovely dancer herself! I am very pleased to meet you." She clasped Catalina's hand in both of hers, as Prince Luke had done last night. Catalina instantly relaxed; she saw Lila's glittering eyes in Queen Victoria's face.

"I shall leave you, then," the queen continued. "I can speak to you later, Luke." With that, she bustled off to talk to a woman sitting by herself in a corner.

Prince Luke continued on to their unknown destination, smiling at her. "See, now, that wasn't so bad."

Catalina could only nod, trying to swallow her heart still lodged in her throat. Despite all the friendliness and warmth that radiated from the queen, Catalina was still afraid of her.

Soon Catalina saw where Prince Luke was talking her. Elle, Clara, Tiana and Elizabeth were standing in a group in a corner, trying to look occupied with adjusting a minor problem with Tiana's dress. They were just escaping a dance, for when they saw Catalina headed towards them, escorted by the prince, the dress was forgotten.

"Cat! There you are," Clara said.

"We thought something happened to you," Elizabeth sounded worried, and rightfully so. It wouldn't be the first time one of them was taken away for malicious intentions.

Prince Luke bowed. "I apoloize for causing you to worry. I was showing Miss Torrez around the gardens and we lost track of time."

"Oh, it's quite all right," Tiana said. She quickly began fussing with her gown again, and after a few nudges, the rest circled around her, turning their backs to Catalina and the prince.

Catalina could only shake her head at them. They were doing a terrible job at pretending not to eavesdrop. Prince Luke must have seen through them, too, because he laughed quietly.

"Well, Miss Torrez, that is two nights in a row you have proven these affairs to be much more fun and exciting than I ever believed they could be. I can hardly wait to see what you will do next."

Was he saying he might invite her to another party? "I think i set the standard too high for myself. I don't see how I can meet the expectantions."

He smiled warmly. "You could never disappoint me." Prince Luke bowed, kissed her hand lingeringly, and slowly walked away.

Catalina was instantly surrounded by girls asking exciting questions.

"You have been out in the gardens this entire time?"

"Did you dance with him?"

"Is he the perfect gentleman everyone says he is or are those things people say because he's the crown prince?"

"What did he think of your dress? Or was he a typical man and not notice it?"

Catalina ignored them as she watched the prince's dark curls move through the ballroom. They stopped beside Emma, seated near the orchestra, where he bowed low. She giggled, and he led her to the dance floor. Catalina's heart warmed, remembering what the prince had said about Annabella, and now watching him dance with his sister at her first ball. She felt a bit guilty for having taken up so much of his time. Prince Luke obviously cared quite a lot about his younger sisters.

Finally, Catalina faced the barrage of questions. "All right! All right! Everyone just calm down. Yes, we were in the gardens the whole time, and now, we did not dance. He said he thought I might appreciate a respite, seeing as he already had a dance yesterday."

"He is so thoughtful," Elle sighed.

"And of course he is a perfect gentleman! How could he be anything else? Have you not met him? Part of being a gentleman, of course, means that he noticed my dress. He said that the color made my eyes seem almost violet." Catalina's voice drifted off, recalling the timbre of his words.

"And? What else?" Clara asked eagerly.

Catalina hardly recognized the dreamy tones as her own. "He showed me around the gardens...they are so beautiful at night."

All the girls sighed. They waited for more details, but Catalina wasn't giving any. She pulled herself back to earth. "We just talked - I'll not tell you what about!"

Elizabeth hugged her. "I'm so happy for you!"

Clara and Elle looked disappointed. "Ah, well, we could try and get some details from Ivy," Elle said.

"Are they still dancing?" Catalina asked, disbelievingly.

Tiana nodded. "They have been together all night, dancing on and off. Eric always gets her to sit down for a while, but Ivy always manages to pull him back out there. They are so cute together!"

Catalina searched the room for them, smiling. "She's always wanted to dance with him, I guess now that she has the chance, she's making good use of it."

A young man approached them, and the conversation ended as one by one they were pulled back into the dance.

The orchestra played its final song at midnight, less than twenty minutes later. In that time, Catalina had had four partners, and Prince Luke had danced with both of his sisters. The Swans gathered together, knowing it was high time they left, but they had to wait for Rictadore to emerge from the card room.

"You had better go," Ivy was saying to Eric. The rest of the girls chatted amongst themselves, trying to give the couple some privacy. "I don't want him to see you."

"If you insist, fair lady." Eric kissed her hand and left the room.

Ivy was floating on air. "Oh, it was a beautiful night! Thank you, thank you all! I know you took extra partners because of me."

"It wasn't all us," Jessica told her. "Princess Annabella helped tremendously. You can't say no when the princess asks you to dance with someone else."

Just then Rictadore reappeared, and the girls became silent and still, just as he demanded, standing in a neat line and looking to the few remaining guests like perfectly formed dolls.. They followed him dutifully back to their rooms. Catalina noted his jaunty gait and tried to decide if it was because of success at the card tables or drink. Perhaps a combination of both, for while Rictadore clinked his newly acquired gold pieces and rustled paper IOUs in his pockets, he also nicked several corners with his shiny leather shoes.

The girls unpinned their hair, unlaced their bodices, and untied their shoes in their large main sitting room amid whispered gossip. Catalina slipped away to her tiny bedroom without any other mentions of the prince. She blew out the candle and pulled the covers up around her chin, ignoring the pain in her leg. She was blissfully content in this moment, remembering the intense gaze in Prince Luke's eyes whenever she had the courage to meet them. Catalina drifted off to sleep, pretending she was a normal girl with a normal, handsome suitor, who had a chance at happily ever after


	5. Chapter 5

The summer passed too quickly for all the occupants of the palace. The princesses flourished under the kind teachings of the Swans, to the point where their ordinary dance instructor came to Catalina for advice for the coming year. The Swans themselves put on one flawless performance after another, to some of the best success they had seen in a long while, earning several new patrons.

Catalina's days were spent in a flurry of dance, accounts, choreography changes, and scheduling, the neverending business end of running a dance troupe. Melanie's presence was missed more and more each day, as the new patrons were possibly more work than they were worth. Catalina first had to locate their estates, as Rictadore couldn't be bothered for the information, and then work them into the existing tour schedule. Then there was the disaster of lodging and food, transportation, contacting estate stewards, and finding overnight travel accomidations for twelve people with a sizable amount of luggage. Afterwards Catalina had to find ways to pay for everything with the limited budget Rictadore kept them on, and finally, finish choreographing the dances so they would have something to perform.

It was exhausting, and Rictadore would let no one but Catalina near his papers and the other documents necessary to make the arrangements. In addition to all this, Rictadore increased the number of visits to the pavillion from every full moon to once a week.

Through it all, Catalina often wondered how she managed to eat and sleep everyday. She certainly never expected to see anyone outside of the dance troupe. So when Catalina saw Prince Luke leaning against the wall across the hall from her rooms, she was shocked to find that he had been waiting for her.

"Oh! Your Highness, if you needed me, you could have knocked."

He laughed gently. "It's all right. I don't mind waiting. All though, you don't come out of there often, do you?"

Catalina blushed. "Have you been waiting long?"

"You needn't trouble yourself over it," Prince Luke answered. She took that to mean he had been waiting long, but wouldn't admit it. "Do you have time to take a walk with me?"

"Of course, Your Highness." Catalina still had a million things to do tonight before the performance, but she couldn't refuse such an offer.

Prince Luke's smile faltered for just a second. "Wait - you didn't agree just because I'm the crown prince, did you?"

"No, not at all." That was only half the reason. The other half was because he was incredibly handsome and she missed his company.

He gave her a sidelong look, as if he knew she wasn't telling the entire truth, but then grinned. "Good. Right this way, if you please." He held out his arm, and she placed her hand in the crook of his elbow.

Prince Luke led her down to the gardens in silence. Once again, Catalina marvelled at the beauty, a different kind in the daylight. Instead of shadows and moonlight creating a nighttime paradise, they were now surrounded by brilliant colors in almost every shade imaginable. Catalina had always been too busy to visit the gardens, and already she was regretting not making an effort before now.

"Your gardens are the loveliest I've ever seen," she told him.

"Are they?" Prince Luke asked, looking around. "I never really thought about it."

"They have color," Catalina said, "but not an overwhelming variety. And not just color, but different styles. See these here?" she gestured to a bush of small, violet blooms. "They aren't very big or bright, but they are elegant. And they make these bigger white ones jump out."

Prince Luke chuckled. "Not only a dancer,but an artist as well, are we?"

Catalina felt herself blushing again. "I'm not very good. I don't have a lot of time for anything but dance."

"But you still see with an artist's eye. I like that."

They continued to stroll leisurely down the path. Prince Luke pointed out several different blossoms and asked her which others would go nicely with them. Catalina found he wasn't merely being polite; she was actually challenged to find the best combinations, until her artisitc eye failed.

"That's really a question for a florist," she said.

"What? You don't think a bouquet of greens would be good?" Prince Luke asked.

"I'm not saying that. I'm saying I have no idea how to do it."

"Come on. Can't you see a bride coming down the aisle, carrying..." he stopped, turned his back, and picked several plants she couldn't see before facing her. "This?"

Catalina burst out laughing. Prince Luke held a handful of assorted leaves and weeds in varying shades of green. They were limp and drab, and some even with the roots still attached.

"Well, what if the bride's favorite color is green?" Prince Luke protested, laughing himself. "I've never seen a green flower, have you?"

"No," Catalina admitted, "but I still don't think she would carry that. She would put green accents in her hair, or her dress, or have her attendants wear green."

"Says you. I think it's very - ow!"

Prince Luke jumped back and dropped the bouquet of greens, making a hissing noise through his teeth. He grabbed his left hand. "Something stung me."

Catalina carefully turned up his palm. A large red welt had suddenly appeared, with raised bumps. It seemed to be spreading before her very eyes. She quickly unbuttoned his cuff and rolled his sleeve back to his elbow.

"Does it hurt now?" Catalina asked, peering at the pile of plants at their feet.

"It sort of burns - hey, don't touch that, you could get stung, too!"

Triumphant in her search, Catalina only grinned. "Oh, no. I found the culprit." She tapped a triangular-shaped leaf with her toe. "It's called the Devil's Leaf, because of its bite, and it's poisonous. When you touch it, the rash appears. If you touch the mark and then someone else of another part of your body, you can spread the rash. It sounds simple enough, until the itching starts. Then, if you leave it untreated long enough, it will burn into your skin."

Prince Luke shuddered, eying the innocent-looking leaf warily.

"But if you boil it properly, it can be used to reduce fevers and hallucinations."

"I suppose that's one thing in its favor," Prince Luke said. "So, what do we do?"

Catalina smiled reassuringly. "We soak your hand in a poulice. Do you have an herb garden?

Prince Luke led her to the kitchen gardens, full of carefully tended and labeled herbs. Catalina picked the ones she needed, telling him what each did as she went. One to reduce swelling, another to relieve the pain, one to take away the redness, one that promoted good skin, and a last that was a known remedy for Devil's Leaf, called the calming plant.

"If that works against the Devil's Leaf, why do we need all the others?" Prince Luke asked as they made their way to the kitchens.

"The calming plant is a remedy for nettle stings," Catalina explained, "and works very well against the Devil's Leaf, which is a nettle. Unfortunately, it takes nearly an entire calming plant to fight the tiniest marks left by the Devil's Leaf. So we add the others for a stronger poulice." She laid all her herbs down on a work table and pulled out a kettle to put on the fire.

Prince Luke sat on a stool, holding his left hand carefully out in front of him, and watched Catalina chop and grind the herbs together. "Where did you learn all this about healing?"

Catalina paused, tapping the pestle against the bowl. "I'm not really sure. It seems I've always known about healing. I must have picked it up somewhere." She resumed her work. "It is lucky for you, though, Prince Luke, otherwise you could be in a lot of trouble."

"Please, just call me Luke." He smiled at the wide-eyed expression on her face. "It is my name, after all. I don't like titles."

"It isn't proper," Catalina insisted, feeling suddenly shy. She had been too forward.

"Sure it is," he said. "We're friends, aren't we? I was stupid enough to touch a poisonous plant and now you are helping me."

"Then you must call me Catalina, and not Miss Torrez."

"All right then. Catalina it is." He loved the feel of her name on his tongue.

The kettle whistled, and Catalina poured some of the boiling water onto the ground herbs. She mixed it all together until it made a thick paste.

"Here we are, Luke," she said, his name sounding much shorter without the title. "We will put this on and you will be back to making strange bouquets in no time at all."

With the back of her spoon, Catalina pressed a heaping measure of the paste into Luke's palm. An instant cooling sensation swept up his arm, relieving the burn of the rash. Catalina left for a moment and returned with a roll of bandages.

"The first poulice sits in the open air," she explained. "The second is wrapped for several hours."

She sat on a stool beside him. "Thank you," Luke said, lifting his hand slightly. She shrugged.

"So you are a dancer, an artist and a healer," Luke mused. "I suppose that the next time I see you I will uncover a new surprising talent?"

Catalina shook her head. "I find myself to be very ordinary."

"We may have to agree to disagree on that point." He looked at her with such intensity in his gold-flecked eyes that Catalina had to look away.

After twenty minutes, she washed the first poulice off. Already the nasty red color had faded to a bright pink. Catalina put the rest of the remedy on and wrapped it in a clean, white bandage.

"There," Luke flexed his fingers. "Good as new."

Catalina smiled. He looked as if he were about to say more when a distant voice screamed, "Cat! Where are you?"

It sounded like a very desperate and frustrated Clara. Catalina stood in the doorway of the tiny kitchen and called, "I'm here!"

Clara came rushing around the corner in full dance attire, with Catalina's shoes in one hand and a dress in the other. "Cat! Where have you been? We're performing in half an hour!"

"I -"

"No, don't speak, just get dressed." She shoved Catalina back into the kitchen, and thrust the dress at her. It took Clara a moment to realize they were not alone.

"Oh!" Clara flushed bright red and curtseyed. "I didn't mean to..."

"No need to apologize," Luke smiled in his way that could put anyone at ease. "It's my fault. I didn't know it was so late. You go on, I shall clean all this up."

"Thank you," Catalina said, torn between dashing off and having a nice goodbye. "And thank you for the walk today. I had a wonderful time."

"It was entirely my pleasure," Luke said. He waved his bandaged hand in the air. "Even this. I hope we can perhaps do it again sometime?"

Catalina beamed. "Absolutely."

She and Clara dashed out, leaving Luke alone. His heart still pounded from the radiant smile she had given him, and he felt lighter than air as she cleaned up the mess and went to dinner. Many a person asked what had gotten the normally polite-but-stoic crown prince to smile so openly, but Luke refused to tell even Annabella.

The guests also noticed the change in the prima ballerina. She held her head higher, her smile was brighter, and she raised her legs higher and more delicately than ever before. They whispered amongst themselves and speculated about the increase in the beauty of the dancer. However, no one noticed how they both blushed whenever they made eye contact, and no one thought to put the two mysteries together.

**A/N: Thank you allfor reading! Please bear with any typos or formatting issues. I'm copying and pasting and haven't figured out how to keep some orginial formatting once I get it on to FanFiction. If you see anything strange, please let me know.**


	6. Chapter 6

Everyday after that, Catalina and Luke met at the same time each afternoon. Sometimes he found her, other times, she gathered the courage to find him. It was a wonderful escape from the hectic schedules they both had. Catalina often found herself growing impatient with the clock because it refused to move faster.

The other girls quickly noticed. "Oh, Cat!" Elle gushed. "You are so lucky! The prince is ever so handsome."

"And polite," Violet added.

"A true gentleman," her twin finished.

"And so thoughful!" Clara beamed. She had the added bonus of having seen Prince Luke's eyes that day she had dragged Catalina away, and she knew this was no summer fancy.

"Isn't it just wonderful?" Ivy said quietly. She had been spending so much time with Eric that the dancers hardly ever saw her. And as each meeting passed, Ivy glowed more and more, until Catalina wondered how on earth Rictadore was blind to it.

"It is," Catalina admitted. "I am going to dread leaving." She turned back to her mending, another pointe shoe. With so much dancing, their shoes were being worn to shreds, but Rictadore refused to purchase new pairs until the scheduled time during the winter season. Their shoes were not going to last.

Their last full day at the palace fell on Ivy and Catalina's birthday. Despite being two years apart, the girls were born on the same day. This year, Ivy got to spend the day with Eric, something that never happened. Usually, he sent a package and asked Catalina to give it to Ivy on their actual birthday, and he was always kind enough to include something for Catalina as well.

"Wake up!" Elle sang as she yanked the blankets off Catalina. "Cat, it's your birthday, wake up!"

"It's my birthday," Catalina mumbled, still half asleep. "Five more minutes."

"No, we have to give you your presents! Come on, up you get."

Elle grabbed Catalina by the wrists and hauled her out of bed. Catalina reached for a dress in her wardrobe, but impatient Elle threw a dressing gown at her and told her to get dressed later.

Catalina entered their shared sitting room, where the rest were gathered, still in their nightgowns.

"Milady," Jessica said in a deep voice, bowing. "Your seat of honor." She led Catalina to a wing-backed chair set up in the center of the room as if it were a throne.

"Thank you, my good sir," Catalina played along.

Elizabeth brought Ivy from her room and sat her in a similar chair beside Catalina.

"And now - your gifts!" Isabelle announced in her most dramatic tone. Violet and Lily presented each birthday girl with a large box, followed by Julia and Tiana with smaller packages wrapped in tissue paper.

"You go first, Ivy," Catalina said.

Ivy smiled, looked at her gifts a moment, then chose to open the smaller one first. It was a neat wooden box, delicately painted on the lid with wandering vines of ivy with white blossoms.

"It's to keep your letters from Eric in," Clara supplied. "It will fit folded papers perfectly - I checked."

"Oh, thank you!" Currently, the sizeable stack of treasured letters was tied with a hair ribbon at the bottom of Ivy's trunk. "Now you open one, Cat."

"All right." Catalina decided to open the larger box. Inside was a beautiful day dress, in the same shade as the ball gown Luke had said made her eyes seem violet. The accents were done in cream-colored lace, and it had cupped sleeves.

"It's gorgeous!" Catalina fingered the lace at the collar. "Elizabeth, did you make this?"

Elizabeth was excellent at knitting. She nodded. "The dress is store-made, but we altered it. I made the lace, and Julia shortened the sleeves a little so you can wear a long-sleeved chemise under it in winter."

Ivy's other present was a dress as well, of the same design, but in pale green. Catalina's smaller present was also a letter-box, with roses painted on the lid.

"For any letters you may receive this year," Jessica said slyly.

Catalina blushed.

"This must have cost you all your allowance!" Ivy said. "You really shouldn't have gotten us both two gifts, especially since there are two of us."

Rictadore allowed the girls a small allowance each month, no more than pin-money, for private expenses. Most of it always went to birthday or Christmas presents for each other, and the rest to replacing necessary items that Rictadore foolishly sold.

"We had to," Isabelle shrugged. "You're Ivy, and Cat's Cat."

The other girls nodded as if this made perfect sense. Strangely, Catalina knew what they meant. They always tried to make birthdays special,because they knew that it would be the only presents received.

"All right,girls," Elizabeth stood. "Time to get ready. We have a lot to do today."

The dancers groaned, but went to prepare to face the day. Catalina put on her new dress and took the time to admire herself. The sleeves allowed her toned, dusky-skinned arms to show, and she wore her hair loose in loose, natural curls. The dress suited her figure well, and it really was her color.

They met Rictadore in the hall. The Twelve Swans were to take breakfast today with the court instead of in their rooms as usual. This always happened towards the end of their stay, as Rictadore wished to display them as ladies of society and earn patrons. It was the girls' jobs to be perfect, social dolls, and it was a role like any other in their ballets: one to be played for a few hours with perfection to please the maestro.

Luke was not at breakfast, but Eric was. He approached the group of girls as soon as Rictadore was called away.

"Ladies," he said, bowing. They curtsied in return, remembering the role. "I believe I must wish two of you happy birthday."

"Thank you," Ivy and Catalina chimed in unison.

"Catalina, something for you," Eric handed her a package wrapped in brown paper. "I'm sorry the paper is drab, it was all the store had."

"It's no trouble. You know you don't have to get me anything."

"Of course I do. You do so much for Ivy and I." Eric turned to his love. "And your present is coming later. Ladies, may I have Ivy after breakfast? I promise not to keep her long."

"You may have her as long as you like," Tiana said.

Eric didn't have a chance to say more, as Rictadore was approaching and the meal was being served, but he winked at Catalina and patted his breast pocket. She smiled back. Catalina placed her gift discreetly uner her chair. She could tell by its feel that it was a book, and she was excited to open it. Eric often gave her books, and he had excellent taste.

As promised, the girls kept Rictadore from noticing Ivy slip away after breakfast. They were going back to their sitting room when Annabella stopped them in the hall.

"Your Highness," Rictadore said, the epitome of politeness. "What may I do for you on this lovely day?"

"Good day, sir," Annabella smiled. "Might I have Miss Torrez, if it is not too much trouble?"

Rictadore's cheek twitched. He was not pleased by the thought of losing his prima ballerina, especially after losing dancing time to breakfast. But the princess could not be denied; he was paid well for her lessons.

"But of course, Your Highness. Catalina, you heard your princess."

Jessica took the gift and slid it behind her back. "Go. We'll take care fo him."

Catalina follwed Annabella back the way she had come. "Is something the matter, Your Highness?"

"Of course not!" The genteel etiquette of moments before was cast aside for a genuine, bubbly smile. "Except, of course, for the fact that today is your birthday and you did not tell us."

Catalina blinked in surprise. "How did you..."

"Lord Eric mentioned it," Annabella explained. "He spends time with Luke. Then I double-checked with the other dancers."

She opened a door and led Catalina into a sitting room. Lila jumped up and threw herself at Catalina.

"Happy birthday!" she squealed.

"Oh my," Catalina laughed. "I think you're more excited than I am."

"I just love birthdays! Sit by me."

Lila dragged her to a sofa and pushed her down before she could greet anyone else in the room. Brieanna immediately left her seat to sit at Catalina's other side, and Emma hugged her. Luke was also there. For a second, he wished he could be as spontaneous as his sisters, but he settled for a smile and a wink. His smile widened when he noticed a blush creeping up Catalina's cheeks.

"Did anyone give you any presents yet?" Lila asked.

"Yes." Catalina tore her eyes away from Luke to look at his baby sister. "The other girls gave me this new dress, and a pretty treasure box." She did not want to say it was a letter box right in front of the person she hoped would write her. "And Lord Eric gave me a book. Those are all the people I get presents from."

"Lord Eric helped us pick your present," Brieanna said.

There was a bite in Emma's tone when she said, "He knows a lot about you." Catalina hoped the princess didn't have a crush on Ivy's dashing suitor.

She gave the younger princesses a conspiratorial look. "That's because he's in love."

"Really?"

"With who?"

"With _whom,_" Annabella automatically corrected. Emma ignored her.

"Does he love you?" Lila asked.

Catalina giggled. "No,not me." She drew closer, as if telling a very important secret. "Lord Eric is in love...with Miss Ivy."

"Oh! That's good," Emma said.

"Yay! Eric has a girlfriend, Eric has a girlfriend!" Brieanna chanted.

"I should have known!" Lila cried with childlike indignation. "He said it was Miss Ivy's birthday today, too, and when he said her name, he went all, awwwwww." Lila relaxed against the arm of the sofa and made a dramatic, dreamy-eyed expression. Everyone laughed.

"Oh, yes, he's madly in love with her. And she is exactly the same way."

"Well, we got you some presents," Brieanna stretched over the back of the sofa and pulled a brightly-wrapped package from its hiding spot. She handed it to the dancer, suddenly a bit shy.

"You didn't have to get me a present," Catalina looked mostly at Annabella and Luke, but they only shrugged at her.

"Miss Cat," Lila said, suddenly stern and commanding. She stood and put her hands on her hips. "It's your birthday, and people are supposed to give you gifts. Now you will open your presents, and you will like it. Am I clear?"

Catalina gave a delicate cough and cleared her throat. Lila was clearly doing an impression of Annabella when she was angry, and the other siblings around her were giggling. Catalina was finding it difficult not to laugh herself.

"You are quite clear, Your Highness."

"Good." Lila was back to her usual energetic self. "Now open your present!"

Catalina pulled back the wrapping paper to reveal a darkly colored leather-bound notebook, filled with thick, blank pages, and a box of artist's pencils. In a jumble of excited words, the younger princesses told her how Lord Eric said she loved to draw, and he had seen her sketches and they were really good, and oh, did she like it?

"I love it!" Catalina exclaimed, squeezing Brieanna and Lila close. This was more than she could have ever wished for; art supplies were expensive and a novelty she never had the money to buy. This would be an excellent change from scraps of cheap fly's paper and cooled embers from the fireplace.

"How old are you, Miss Cat?" Brieanna asked.

"Brie!" Annabella scolded.

Catalina waved a hand. "It's all right. As of today, I am twenty-two years old."

"What about Miss Ivy?"

"She is twenty. She's the youngest out of all of us."

Lila jumped up. "We have a present for her, too! Where is she, do you know?"

"If she is not with her beloved Lord Eric," Catalina said in a dramatic voice that made the princesses giggle, "then she is in our sitting room. I can walk you up."

Luke stood up then, having let his sisters have their moment. "Acutally, Catalina, I was wondering if I might take a walk with you?"

"Oooooo, Lukie," Emma teased. Catalina was surprised to see a bit of red color his jawline. Luke made a face at his sister.

"On your way then, hop to it!" he said, chasing Emma around the room. She shrieked when he caught her and begged for him to let go and "Stop tickling!"

Catalina handed Brieanna the new sketchbook and pencils andn asked her to put them in the dancers' sitting room. They all left in a group of giggling girls desperate to escape their tickling older brother. They parted ways, Lila's excited chatter echoing off the soaring ceiling.

Luke turned to Catalina, a mischevious glint in his eye.

"Oh, no," she said, putting her hands up in defense. "You are not going to tickle me, too."

"Yes, I am."

"No, no, no!" Catalina hiked up her skirts and ran. Luke gave chase, and they sprinted through the palace laughing and shrieking like children. The only people who saw them were palace staff, who fortunately adored their employers. These servants spent the rest of the day gossiping and speculating about how happy their prince was. No one had seen him act that way since the war, not even with his sisters. It was a pity the beautiful young dancer was leaving in the morning.


	7. Chapter 7

Catalina dashed outside, breathless and giggling. She found herself on the palace lawns, and immense stretch of greens connecting the gardens to the stables. She turned around, looking for Luke, only to see that he had disappeared.

"Luke?" Catalina peered back into the palace, but saw no one. "Luke, where are you?"

"Gotcha!"

A pair of strong, muscular arms wrapped themselves around her waist from behind and lifted her off the ground. Catalina kicked her legs and tugged at Luke's wrists, laughing the entire time as he swung her around in circles.

"Put me down! Put me down!"

"As you wish, milady." Although she couldn't see it, Catalina knew that gleam was back in his brown-gold eyes.

"No, wait - !"

Luke threw himself on the ground, taking Catalina with him. She tried to pull away, overestimated her own strength, and ended up rolling down a hill at the edge of the lawns. Catalina lay on her back at the bottom, laughing so much her stomach ached.

Luke rolled down too and lay in the grass beside her, laughing himself. "I won. I got you."

"It wasn't a contest, so you can't win."

"Sure I can. I won."

Catalina shook her head and gasped for breath, finally calming down. "We just acted like children. We're going to be in so much trouble."

Luke shrugged. "It's your birthday, you can do what you wish. At least, that's our family's philosphy."

"It's a very nice one." Catalina sighed and basked in the summer sunshine. She could easily stay here forever.

"Hey, are you okay?"

The deep concern in Luke's voice made Catalina open her eyes and sit up. He was looking at her left leg, then back up at her face, searching for something. Catalina didn't have to look at her leg to know what had scared him. The tumble down the hill had caused her skirts to rise up about her knees.

Exposed in the open air were Catalina's scars. Long and reddish-pink, they spiraled around her calf in a long, jagged line, spiderwebbing on her foot. Her knee, still hidden by her dress, was also branded, with a full-blown array of smaller scars Rictadore had carefully arranged to look like a wide, red bloom.

"I'm fine," Catalina smiled weakly, trying to reassure poor Luke. "Those are over a year old by now."

"So that is why I did not see you at all last summer."

Catalina traced a finger over the raised scar tissue. "Yes. I got hurt dancing last spring, and the surgery...was complicated. But I'm in perfect health now." She hated to lie, especially to him, but Rictadore had threatened her to silence; even the other dancers didn't know the full story. She wasn't even sure how to explain what had happened.

Luke looked at her intently, forcing her to meet his gaze. "If you had needed a doctor, you should have asked. I would have made sure you were taken care of."

Had he truly cared for her that long? The very thought made Catalina's heartrate increase. She had always thought her teenaged crush to be one-sided.

"I was all right once we got to the palace. Rictadore is complicated and unusual, but he always makes sure we can dance." If there was anything to be said about the maestro, this was it.

They sat in awkward silence for a while. Catalina wondered if Luke thought her ugly and crippled now, as so many others had over the past year, of both sexes. But then he smiled ruefully. "It seems I've ruined the happy mood."

"Don't blame yourself."

"But I do. And I feel I must redeem myself." Luke sprang to his feet. "Wait here."

Catalina watched him as he dashed back up the hill and disappeared from view. She adjusted her dress, only now thinking of how scandalous it was to have so much of her bare leg exposed in the company of a young man. Oh, well. The damage was done.

Luke came back, skittering down the hill with his arms behind him. He plopped down on the grass beside her and said, "Close your eyes."

Catalina knew where this was going. "No, I - you shouldn't - "

"Ah-ah-ah," Luke cut her off. "Close them."

Sighing, but happy, Catalina did so. She felt something being placed in her lap before being allowed to see again.

He'd given her another birthday present. "Really, Luke, the sketchbook was enough. This wasn't necessary."

"The book was from my sisters. This is from me." He crossed his long legs and leant his elbows on his knees, watching her expectantly.

Catalina opened the gift, revealing a thin wooden box with a carved lid. Inside, in a bed of black velvet, lay a set of beautiful hair combs, the exact same shade as her hair, with silver designs that sparkled in the sun. A gasp escaped her. Catalina had never owned anything so beautiful or expensive in her life.

"Goodness. I've never seen anyone struck speechless by a birthday present before."

Catalina swallowed and met Luke's smiling eyes. "It's just that I've never had anything like this before. I've never had so many birthday presents before."

Luke was saddened by the thought. As far as he could tell, the Twelve Swans did fairly well financially; the idea that Catalina simply didn't have friends other than the dancers, or anyone who cared enough to wish her a happy birthday was a depressing thought. He was glad he and his sisters could make a difference.

"Here," he said, and reached for the box. He plucked a comb out and without hesitating, twisted a lock of Catalina's hair backaway from her face and secured it with the comb.

Catalina touched it gently. "How does it look?"

"Beautiful," Luke answered. "And absolutely perfect."

He leaned forward and kissed her lips. They were soft and sweet, and she smelled of vanilla.

Catalina immediately decided that she had spoken too soon. This was where she wanted to stay forever.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The Twelve Swans packed up and left early the next morning. Catalina stood in the drive, telling the footmen on which carriage to put their numerous trunks and bags while mentally taking notes, so she would be prepared when Rictadore sold more of their things. And all this on only a few hours' sleep, for Rictadore had summoned them to the pavillion last night.

"Miss Cat!" a sleepy voice called.

The second smile of the day sprang to Catalina's face (the first was when she'd awakened and realized Luke's kiss had not been a dream). No matter how tired or flustered she was, Catalina always had a smile for Lila.

She turned and saw Luke striding towards her, and her smile grew wider. He was neatly dressed and his curls were as well-maintained as they could be. He carried a sleepy, nightgown-clad Lila on his arm.

"Lila, what on earth are you doing awake this early?"

Lila shifted her weight forward and held out her arms, wordlessly expressing her desire for Catalina to hold her. Catalina hesitated until Luke put his sister in her arms.

"Lukie said you were leaving," the little girl said.

"Yes, we're leaving," Catalina sighed. "It's very unfortunate, but we must. But you didn't have to get up to see us off. We said goodbye last night."

Still half asleep, Lila only wrapped her arms around the dancer's neck and buried her face in her shoulder. The little girl smelled of warmth and sleep, and Luke's cedarwood like scent.

"You didn't expect us to just let you disappear, did you?" Luke asked quietly. He stood so close to Catalina that she could hear his voice vibrate in his chest.

Catalina was saved from trying to express her fears by a called question from a footman. She turned and hurridly went back to work as Lila fell back to sleep on her shoulder. Luke hovered nearby, touching her waist gently whenever no one was looking.

The other dancers slowly emerged from their rooms, yawning and carrying carpet bags with the last of their things. Ivy and Isabelle, the ones who loved sleep, were the last to appear, followed by the rest of the princesses. Brieanna and Emma were still in their nightgowns, but Annabella was dressed, although her hair hung in thick blonde locks down her back, rather than her usual neat updo.

"We've come to see you away!" Emma chirped.

"Parting is such sweet, sweet sorrow," Brieanna said mournfully.

"It's very kind of you, Your Highnesses," Tiana said, looking around fearfully. "but it's really not necessary."

"He's not up yet," Clara whispered.

"But he will be," Tiana hissed back. Rictadore hated personal attachments. Leaving a place was supposed to be quick and painless, with no tears. The girls had learned that lesson quickly enough.

"Don't worry about it," Luke said, gently cutting in. "He'll have to deal with me, and I don't think he likes me very much."

A nervous laugh passed through the dancers. It was true that Rictadore avoided the prince as much as possible.

In a sudden flurry of activity, the last pieces of luggage were packed, goodbyes were made, and Rictadore appeared, dressed impeccably as always. He only bowed to the royal children when he saw them, avoiding eye contact with Luke, and climbed into his personal buggy at the head of their procession.

"We'd best be going," Elizabeth prompted, and the princesses hugged them all one last time.

Catalina passed the sleeping Lila back to her brother. Luke's hands lingered on Catalina's arms much longer than absolutely necessary. Catalina tried to ignore the burning sensation on the back of her neck that told her Rictadore was watching.

"Goodbye," she whispered to Luke.

"I'll miss you," he said, "very much."

Catalina's heart was suddenly in her throat. No one had ever said that to her. She took a breath, ready to ask if she might write him a letter some time, but stopped herself. It wasn't her place to ask! Luke was the crown prince. He'd meet lots of elegant young women of noble blood while she was gone for the next year, women more suited for him. Catalina was destined to dance to her death.

"I'll miss you, too," was all she ended up saying, "More than I can say."

Luke gave her a brilliant smile, and Catalina returned it. At least she wouldn't die without ever having been kissed.

The dancers climbed into the carriages and waved to the princesses. Catalina looked back until Luke and his sisters were small figures on the horizon.

She faced forward again and sighed. Her chest felt empty and it ached. The other girls in her carriage were kindly going about their own business. Elizabeth was busily knitting another piece of lace; the twins were sharing an old clothing catalogue; and Ivy was playing with a long silver chain around her neck and staring off into the distance. This made Catalina smile. On the end of that chain, safely hidden in the bodice of her dress, was a diamond ring. Eric had proposed yesterday, much to everyone's delight. He had written to the dancers nearly three months before their arrival at the palace, asking their permission to marry Ivy. Everyone was glad the cat was finally out of the bag. Ivy had been so happy she had cried.

Catalina sighed. Thinking about Ivy and Eric had caused her to think about Luke. She had worn her combs in her hair, and whenever she closed her eyes, she was brought back to that magical moment when he had kissed her. But she would drive herself crazy if she thought about Luke and how she wouldn't be able to see him for an entire year. Instead,she reached into her carpet bag at her feet and pulled out the book Eric had given her. It was a volume of folk stories from around the world, and Catalina threw herself into it, trying to forget everything else.

They spent the entire day traveling. By nightfall, they had arrived at the theatre where they would peform for the next month. After the theatre, they were expected at the Braeson manor for two weeks, then two weeks elsewhere, and so on for the rest of the year.

"Second rehearsal begins in half an hour," Rictadore said as soon as they set foot in the theatre. "You are all expected backstage in twenty minutes."

Twenty minutes was hardly enough time to warm up, let alone unpack and change as well. They would be lucky if no one injured herself tonight.

Fortunately, the girls were wise enough to pack their dancing things in their carpet bags, not their trunks. Catalina reluctantly pulled her birthday combs from her hair. There would be enough jealousy and anger from the house dancers without her flaunting expensive accessories at rehearsal. She didn't want these stolen.

Catalina also didn't want Rictadore to suddenly sell them. She turned in circles in her tiny room, looking desperately for a hiding spot. The wooden floorboards creaked beneath her bare feet. She froze, then smiled.

Using a sturdy hairpin, Catalina pried a floorboard up from its loose nails, revealing a spot just big enough for her birthday presents. She put the floorboard back and marked it with a tiny smear of makeup. Satisfied that the silver eyepaint couldn't be seen and noticed with a casual glance, Catalina snatched her ragged shoes and bolted for the stage.

As she expected, the house dancers were extremely angry when several of the leads were recast as the Swan dancers. Catalina didn't understand why; many of them had been at the theatre several years, and ought to know by now that the girls got leading roles whether they wanted them or not. The house manager was new and looked a bit skeptical himself when Rictadore announced Catalina would be dancing the lead, but after a brief word with the operator of the theatre, he kept his mouth shut.

It promptly fell open again when he saw the Twelve Swans dance.

This season's ballet was actually the troupe's signature piece - the story of a princess and her handmaidens who are cursed to be swans by day, and live on a lake made of their own tears. A young prince stumbles upon them and promises to help break the curse by announcing his love for the princess before the entire world. Normally, the plan is thwarted by the sorcerer who cast the spell in the first place and the two drown themselves in the lake, but the house manager had written a happier ending for this year. For once, Rictadore did not argue about the integrity of a classic ballet. In fact, he got as enthusiastic as Catalina had ever seen him: Rictadore offered his personal assistance in the choreography. Rictadore didn't throw around the word "personal" casually; normally he offered "our" services, meaning the girls would do all the work and he would get all the credit. But if Rictadore offered his personal services, it meant he wasn't going to let even Catalina near the project.

In any case, the girls had been performing this ballet for nearly a decade now, and clearly outshone the older, more travelled house dancers. It couldn't be helped; if they pretended they couldn't dance well enough for the role, Rictadore would punish them. Unfortunately it meant they were hated by every dancer in the kingdom.

Rehearsal ended two hours later. The Twelve Swans escaped to their rooms as soon as possible, avoiding the angry glares of the house dancers. They were brought dinner soon after, a hearty beef stew that paled in comparison to the meals at the palace, but was good nonetheless. Catalina, Elizabeth, Violet and Lily, as the oldest members of the troupe, ran around the theatre for hours, securing their costumes, airing them, storing what few props they owned, and the hundreds of other details that came with moving in. Catalina collapsed into bed in the early hours of the morning.

The next couple of days were much of the same: rehearse, settle in, avoid angry dancers, rehearse again, dance at the pavillion, sleep. Catalina was too exhausted to think about her emotional problems, although they were impossible to forget.

Two days before opening night, Catalina was rushing about as usual, trying to find the house manager, when the matronly woman who sold tickets called her name. "Miss Torrez, is it? Mail for you!"


	8. Chapter 8

Catalina whirled, heart pounding. "Do you mean, for Maestro Rictadore?"

"No, I mean you, love," the woman said. "As long as you're Catalina Torrez. I've got two letters and a box. Do you want to take them now or shall I have them sent to your room?"

Catalina blinked. She wasn't expecting Eric to write. Or send a box.

"I'll take them now. Thank you very much."

Prompty forgetting about whatever it was she had to do, Catalina went straight to the Twelve Swans' rooms. One of the envelopes was from Beatrice Cassel, who was Eric. The other, along with the package, was from Princess Annabella.

Ivy was no where to be found - trying to mend her costume, according to Julia - so Catalina left the letter on her bed and went to her own room. Although she was dying to know what was in the box, Catalina dutifully opened the letter first.

It was not written in the princess's flowing hand. In spiky, uniform letters, it read:

_Dear Catalina,_

_My apologies for presuming I could write you, but I simply had to. The palace seems so quiet and empty now.I actually went to your rooms today to see if you wanted to make poisonous green bouquets again. Ah, well. A year is a dreadfully long time to wait, but I suppose I'll have to manage._

_Anyway, on to happier news - Eric has arranged for the two of us to attend the opening night at the theatre. No fuss or anything, just two dashing young men out to see some beautiful girls dance like angels. I thought you would like to know. But you needn't worry about us; we'll slip in and out undetected, I promise. Eric explained that I ought to have my sister address the envelope, for safety from prying eyes. I can only hope it worked._

_I've also sent something you might need for the show. The girls wish they could come, but when we all travel together, people recognize us. They send their love, and said to tell you to "break a leg". I'm not sure what that means, and I certainly don't want you to break any bones. So I will simply wish you good luck - _

_- Luke_

Catalina thought her heart might melt. For all the brave man facade he put on, Luke was really just a shy, sweet man. She set aside the letter and pulled the package onto her lap. What was inside was one of the best things Luke could have possibly sent.

Yards and yards of pale pink satin lined the box like an ocean. Catalina rubbed some of the fabric between her fingers and was shocked by the quality. Their shoes weren't made of satin like this. This satin could last for ages, even at the rate they were dancing through the patches.

"Girls!" Catalina hugged the box to her chest and dashed out to the main room. "Girls! Drop everything and get your pointe shoes! I've got something wonderful!"

They spent the next several hours refitting their pointe shoes with the new satin. By now they could probably make their own shoes, they were so familiar with the structure and design, so it was a simple task to strip off the old fabric and replace it. As soon as she stepped into her new shoes Catalina thought this might be a better arrangement than buying shoes: she didn't have to break these in, and they still felt like dancing on clouds.

"Did you get a letter, too?" Ivy asked.

"Yes." Catalina blushed.

Ivy giggled. "Eric wrote that Prince Luke kept throwing away half-written notes because he didn't know what to say. I'm glad he finally figured it out!"

"Me, too."

"Eric also said which seats he'd reserved. You can write him back, and won't have to wait on the post."

Catalina beamed. "That's an excellent idea, Ivy." She had been a bit worried about trying to find Luke on opening night to even slip him a note, let alone speak her gratitude.

Elizabeth announced that they had fifteen minutes until rehearsal, promptly ending any side activities.

Thankfully, Rictadore didn't summon them to the pavillion that night - it would have been the fourth night in a row. Still too excited to sleep just yet, Catalina penned her reply to Luke.

_Dear Luke,_

_Thank you, thank you ever so much for the satin! You have no idea how useful it is. It's enough to re-fabric our shoes several times each, something we desperately needed. I'm so glad you and Eric can come to the show. I feel the full theatre ballets are far different from what we perform at the palace, and I think you'll really enjoy it, especially here. This theatre has especially inspiring scenery and costumes._

_You needn't worry about presuming anything by writing me. In fact, if I had just a little more courage, I would have asked permission to write to you. I used to have someone who wrote me, and it makes the unbearably long year feel much shorter. But Eric was right to warn you about the envelope; Rictadore does not allow us correspondance with just anyone, and especially not men. So if it's not too much trouble, please have Princess Annabella keep addressing the envelopes whenever you write. I've included a list of all the places we are expected to be and the dates of our arrivals, as Eric says it is much easier than waiting for Ivy's letters to arrive and tell him where to write to._

_I'm terribly sorry the palace seems lonely. I miss our walks through the gardens, too, doubly because there are no gardens here in which I can pretend you are walking through with me._

_As for your sisters, I completely understand why they cannot come. Tell them we all say hello! Also, the phrase, "break a leg" does mean good luck in the theatre business. I'm not sure why, since a broken leg isn't very beneficial in our line of work (or anyone's I can think of, for that matter) but I thank you all the same!_

_Yours,_

_Catalina_

Catalina folded the letter and set it aside, to be put in an envelope with Ivy's and given to the ticket woman in the morning. She opened the floorboard and pulled out her letter-box. Catalina placed Luke's letter inside, next to the dried rose he'd given her. Catalina replaced the floorboard, crawled into bed, and for the first night in many, slept peacefully all night long.


	9. Chapter 9

Catalina stood backstage on opening night, twenty minutes before the curtain rose, an absolute bundle of nerves. She couldn't remember the last time she had been so nervous about a performance. She tried to tell herself it was because of the rewritten final act, but she knew it was really because of a certain patron sitting in the opera box stage right.

"Remember to breathe, Cat," Tiana instructed, straightening her tutu.

"You've danced in front of him before." Apparently Lily could see right through her.

"Oh, and if all else fails, and you do make a fool of yourself," Isabelle said, adding a final flourish to Catalina's face, "remember that at least your makeup is impeccable."

Catalina rolled her heavily painted eyes, but the remark did make her relax. "I can do this."

"Of course you can," Jessica said. "Now go out there and show him what he's missing out on!"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Luke and Eric sat in their box, surrounded on all sides by elderly ladies. They were by far the youngest members of the opera box by at least sixty years.

"You said these were good seats," Luke murmured to Eric.

"They are. You can probably see the girls' faces from here. And, they were relatively cheap for such short notice."

"What happened? Did the original buyers die?"

Eric stifled a laugh. Luke was in a mood because he was incredibly nervous. Firstly, he wished to avoid being recognized as the crown prince and causing a fuss; he was about to see Catalina, in all her glory, for the first time in nearly three weeks; and the older woman beside them had tried to flirt with them the moment they had taken their seats. Eric didn't take the snappy replies seriously.

"Not to worry," he said, "Soon, Catalina will be onstage and you won't be able to think straight anyway. Just read your letter again and sit tight."

Luke fiddled with the folded piece of paper in his hand. In the ten minutes he'd been sitting there, he had already read the quick note about a thousand times. He'd never noticed how much of her personality was expressed in her handwriting.

The lights dimmed, and the orchestra director took his place. Luke swiftly tucked the letter into his breast pocket, removed the elderly woman's hand from his arm, and took a nervous breath. Eric smirked and sat back in his seat as the orchestra played the overture.

Luke was a little disappointed that Catalina wasn't the first dancer onstage as he was used to seeing. In fact, none of the Twelve Swans were. The ballet began with a male house dancer costumed as a sorcerer. He spent some time casting an elaborate spell, at the end of which there was a great flash of light, and the entire theatre went dark. Luke applauded with everyone else, thinking back to Catalina's words about the theatre's props and costumes department.

The next scene showed a lake in the middle of the forest. Whatever they used to depict the water actually shimmered and rippled in the artificial sunlight. On the surface of the lake were seven swans. The music played, and they moved - the swans were actually dancers bent double, wearing elaborate headdresses. The headdresses, combined with their tutus, gave the appearance of swans. Luke studied each girl, but it was impossible to tell if one was Catalina.

Night began to fall, and the swans hurried to the far shore of the lake. As the sun set and the moon rose, they minced one by one onto the lake - and actually slipped beneath the surface. Shocked, Luke stared, and jumped when the first girl reemerged at the opposite shore from the rest. As the swan rose from the water, she stretched to stand up on her feet, raised her arms over her head and pushed off her headdress. She had effectively transformed from swan to girl, right before their eyes. Luke recognized her as Clara.

The rest of the swans were also revealed to be members of the dance troupe, whose names Eric whispered to Luke. After Clara came Elle, then Tiana, Isabelle, Ivy (Luke nudged Eric then, who blushed), Julia and Violet. The music swelled and the moon sat high in the sky as the last swan finally resurfaced. She stretched her arms wide and took several dainty steps. It was Catalina.

Luke blinked and sat shock still as everyone else applauded. Catalina's skirt was the same as the others', a stiff white fabric to give the appearance of feathers, but rather than a white and pink bodice, hers was embossed with gold. Her hair was piled high on her head and topped with a silver tiara twisted into the shape of a swan. She blinked her eyes, and Luke noticed the swirling gold and blue paint on the lids that made them seem twice as large. She turned her head, and Luke swallowed. Catalina wore two of her haircombs arranged so the silver accents were an extension of her tiara. From a distance, the headpiece seemed to be resting daintily atop her head.

"What did I tell you?"

"Hush, and look at Ivy instead."

The swans-turned-girls pretended to cry. Eric said that was because the lake was supposed to be made out of their tears. Catalina, however, wasn't a crier. Instead she went off into the forest to explore. She had a long solo, at the end of which the sun rose, and she was promptly turned back into a swan. Catalina the swan started to fly back home, but suddenly a hunter appeared out of nowhere and tried to shoot her down.

Luke found himself getting caught up in the story as much as he was in watching Catalina perform. The emotions of all the characters were expressed so plainly and eloquently by the dancers. Luke could easily see Catalina the swan's desperation to escape, and the hunter's determination and growing frustration.

The hunter chased Catalina all day, and as the moon rose once more, they arrived at the shores of the lake. Catalina transformed into a girl just as the hunter released his last arrow. The hunter turned out to be a prince, and after dancing all night with Catalina, he promised to break the curse. He said he would announce his love for the princess at a grand ball at his palace the next night, provided that Catalina would attend.

After intermission, the story again began with the sorcerer. He knew of the prince's promise to break the curse, and knew he must do something. He transformed his daughter to look like the swan princess - although Luke knew it wasn't Catalina because the dancer's eyes were green, not blue. The sorcerer's daughter arrived at the palace ball as Catalina, still a swan as the sun had not yet set, began to fly to the palace on the other side of the stage.

The prince, believing the girl before him to be the swan princess, began to dance with her. As the dance progressed, Catalina grew weaker and weaker, until she tumbled from the sky and landed on the forest floor.

The prince was about to profess his love to the wrong girl. He got to one knee before her. In the forest, Catalina transformed into a girl. Her back arched and she cried out as if in pain. The prince opened his mouth -

"You do know how this ends, right?" Eric whispered.

"No, how?"

- and was attacked by six angry swans.

Eric blinked. "Actually, I don't know either."

The swans changed into girls as they beat their wings and fists on the prince's back. Elle yanked a magic necklace off the false princess's neck, and the spell was broken. The prince could see clearly, and knew he had been fooled.

The orchestra played a fast, intense number as the prince raced through the forest and Catalina lay on the ground, barely alive. Luke's heart raced along in time. The music died as the prince finally found his true princess, lying still. He bent his head, and for one angry moment Luke thought he was going to kiss her. But then the prince's shoulders shook. He threw back his head and screamed at the sky, crying angry tears.

Suddenly, Catalina's eyes fluttered open. She sat up and stretched her arms. The prince scooped her up in excitement and spun her around, their circles becoming a dance as the music swelled again. They danced as the sun rose high in the sky, eventually joined by the other swan maidens and the party guests.

The final numbers seemed to be small duets and ensembles performing at the wedding. Then Catalina and the prince lead a final dance, and the curtain fell.

Luke and Eric jumped to their feet and applauded enthusiastically as the dancers took their curtain calls. Rictadore, the house manager, and the theatre operator came out from backstage. Catalina curstied gracefully at both sides of the stage. She dipped down beneath the opera box and as she rose, she looked up.

Their eyes locked.

Catalina grinned. She had been watching Luke all night out of the corner of her eye, and as far as she could tell, he had enjoyed the performance.

She'd never had anyone sitting in the audience just for her. Catalina decided to do something special to thank him.

She curtsied again, extending her leg and arm delicately before her. With her palm facing inward, she curved her arm up her body and just in front of her lips as she rose, before flexing her wrist up in the direction of the opera box. Catalina caught Luke's gaze again and smiled shyly.

Luke plucked the kiss from the air and tucked it safely away in his breast pocket alongside the letter. He did not see Catalina again that night, but her kiss beat a warm rhythm against his chest all night long and all during the long journey home.

A/N: So I took some liberties with the actual plotline of the ballet. My sister is a dancer and I have seen many different interpretations of the original tragic story. The ending is all my own, but I apologize if my straying from ballet canon offends anyone. Also, this story is a lot longer tha I ever anticipated! The characters are just running away with me. The blowing kisses scene was all Catalina's idea, I swear!


	10. Chapter 10

"What are you drawing?"

Catalina slammed her sketchbook shut in surprise. Clara had snuck up on her.

"Oh, nothing. Nothing good, anyway."

Clara raised a disbelieving eyebrow. She gestured to the floor, littered with crumpled scraps of flypaper. "Then why all the practice?"

Catalina looked as if she were seeing the mess for the first time. "Just, ah, lighting problems and scaling...I still haven't gotten it right."

She stood and began cleaning up, trying to keep the drawings hidden from Clara. "What are you doing up, anyway?"

It was a rare night where they had been allowed to go to bed after the evening performance. All the dancers were sleeping soundly, Catalina was sure.

"I needed a drink," Clara said vaguely. "What are you doing up? Of all people, I would have thought you would be out cold."

"Too many late nights, I guess. I can't sleep."

Clara stared at her, as if searching for more, but her own exhaustion won out. "All right," she yawned, "but go to sleep soon, okay? We can't have the swan princess falling asleep on the lake."

"Good night," Catalina whispered as the other girl shuffled back to bed. She signed and stared at the nearly completed pencil sketch in her notebook. Even she had to admit,all that practice had paid off; it was one of her best works.

The clock chimed eleven forty-five. Hurridly, Catalina put all of her things away and turned down her lantern. Quietly, she opened the closet door in the main room, very, very slowly, for it creaked. On the inside of the door hung the tapestry.

Catalina traced her finger along the edging. The tapestry glowed, and she stepped inside.

The forest was dark and eerily still. At the lake, the eleven other boats sat silent and empty, the way Melanie's boat always did, as her single vessel crept slowly across the dark waters.

The pavillion was, of course, deserted. A dancing costume had been left on one of the benches, a black one without a skirt. Catalina put it one, not caring if Rictadore watched.

She had just finished lacing up her pointe shoes, which were sadly showing significant wear only two weeks after their reworking with Luke's satin, when the music began. Catalina recognized it as the overture to a ballet the girls called the childhood dances. She got into position and began to dance.

Wherever this music came from, it was not normal orchestration. This musc was more alive, more pleading, more emotional than any live musician she had ever heard. If this music was playing, Catalina could dance for days without thinking twice. She had done it.

The music ended. Catalina curtsied, her limbs trembling and coated with sweat. She had no idea how much time had passed.

"Come here, girl," Rictadore said. He had, of course, appeared out of nowhere.

He lead Catalina along a pathway marked with large smooth stones in the gardens. She felt something cool beneath her feet, but dared not stop. Even walking behind Rictadore was dangerous.

They arrived at a greenhouse, or at least, what looked like a greenhouse. The walls were opaque glass panels, but there were no plants inside. Instead, a series of contraptions lay strewn all about, their inner workings spilling out for all to see. Gears and engines lay half completed on worktables, and a complicated pulley system hung from the rafters.

Catalina only glanced around to see if Rictadore had actually finished any of his strange inventions. A few things were no longer in their original places, and there were some new groups of strange gears, but other than that, almost nothing had changed in almost a year and a half. She wondered what Rictadore had been working on all this time.

At the back of the workroom was what could only be described as a platform: a circle of fine wood, highly polished, about two feet off the ground. Catalina distinctly remembered being shown a series of dolls that stood on platforms like this one as a girl. The patron who had shown them off had said they were very expensive dolls and not for playing with, making Catalina wonder what purpose dolls had if it was not to be played with.

Rictadore waved a hand at the platform. Catalina climbed up and stood in first position. The lights suddenly dimmed, and a spotlight flashed on with a loud pop. Catalina forced herself to relax, taking a deep breath. Her scars burned.

"Second position," Rictadore called from his hiding place.

Catalina moved her feet, and stood as still as a not-to-be-played-with doll until Rictadore gave her a new command. It had taken weeks, but Catalina had figured out what he was up to when this all started last year.

The spotlight wasn't just a spotlight. Somehow, it also took measurements. Rictadore would peer into a telescope-like device, scribble in a notebook, and tell her to move. He was difficult to see, as the telescope was across the room from the platform in a darkened corner. Catalina figured they were measurements of her body. She had once found an order form among Rictadore's expenditures papers that confirmed the purchase of a made-to-order wooden frame in numbers very similar to her dress measurements. And as no dressmaker's dummy had ever appeared, the only explanation lay in Rictadore's strange nighttime pursuits. Unfortunately, she'd never seen it down here, either.

After an hour, Rictadore instructed Catalina back to first position. She heard his ever-present walking stick tap on the floor. He appeared in the pool of light created by the spotlight, his usually smooth, aristocratic forehead crinkled in concentration.

"Point left."

Catalina pointed her left foot forward without hesitating. Rictadore's icy fingers closed around her ankle, just above the ribbons of her pointe shoe. Her scars twitched when he ran a finger along them.

Catalina hated when he touched them.

Rictadore tugged at a rope dangling behind him. The pulley system clanked a little - Rictadore was behind on greasing the gears - and a bucket of various supplies made its way to his side. From there, Rictadore plucked out several pieces of string, all different lengths and gauges that only he seemed to know. He experimented with them a little, comparing them to her scars or wrapping them around her ankle. Catalina swallowed, a bit nervous, but she refused to let her leg tremble.

"You are dismissed," Rictadore said suddenly. He released her leg.

Catalina curtsied, then stepped down from the platform. The only sound in the entire greenhouse - and probably this entire accursed land - was the dull quiet clunk of her pointe shoes. Catalina managed to keep a steady pace that Rictadore demanded, despite her tense muscles and pounding heart, until she was halfway down the garden path. Then, certain Rictadore couldn't see her from the greenhouse, she yanked off her shoes and bolted.

Panting and trembling, Catalina burst through the gardens and out into the pavillion. She pulled off the black dance costume as if it were on fire, and put her nightdress back on. She hated being here alone; it was creepy and disconcerting, and the last time she'd been to the greenhouse had not ended well.

On the boat ride back across the lake, Catalina inspected her shoes. Two holes had been worn clean through the right one, and another on the left. She was sad, then furious. How dare Rictadore force her to ruin Luke's beautiful, thoughtful gift so quickly? It simply wasn't fair to him, or to the other girls, for now there was less fabric to go around.

Padding barefoot through the forest, absolutely exhausted, Catalina nearly walked past the tree. She slipped through the portal and into the closet with a squeak. She'd accidentally left the door shut.

Catalina crawled into bed, tossing her shoes to the floor nearby. Four hours of sleep wasn't ideal, but it was all she was going to get. At least she was so tired she ought to sleep soundly.

She was wrong.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Catalina was dancing alone at the pavillion. She was dressed in a snow-white tutu made of gazy, flowing material that swam about her legs. Her hair was pinned so tightly it hurt; this would be the last time she let Jessica do her hair.

She felt good. This was a time before endless nights of dance and days full of doing the job of two. She was charged with sleep and naively hypnotized by the music.

The song ended. Catalina held her pose, waiting for the next set to begin. It didn't come. Instead, Rictadore appeared, grabbed her wrist, and dragged her to his greenhouse.

Her wrists were tied tightly, her ankles secured. She tugged against them. A wire came down from the ceiling. Rictadore pinched it between his fingers, raised a scapel, and made a slice in her leg. Catalina screamed.

The wire was white-hot as it crept slowly, slowly, ever slowly through her skin. Catalina yanked at her restraints and screamed again, but it was useless. Her leg was hot with pain, then suddenly went numb.

Panicked, Catalina kicked her left foot. Nothing happened. She did it again. Not even a twitch.

Rictadore's knuckles were white around her ankle. Catalina couldn't breathe. Rictadore played with the wire, puling it back bloody. He picked up the scapel again, and this time his hand trembled. He was uncharacteristcally flustered. He made another incision, this time on her knee; Catalina felt the heat of her blood as it spilled, but no pain.

Rictadore pulled at more wire and string, his hands flying, but to no avail. Catalina couldn't see straight, and her face was wet. She tried desperately to move her leg, the only part of her not tied down, but it was as if a lead weight were strapped to it.

Rictadore cut her hands and other leg free. Catalina slid to the ground, now slick and cold. He was saying something, his mouth moving, but Catalina heard no sounds. She reached out a hand to him, begging for help in a weak voice.

"Please," she rasped. "Please, please."

Rictadore backed away, shaking his head. He said something else, but Catalina's head was rushing. She watched him rifle through all the tools and contraptions around the greenhouse, tossing aside his usual organization skills as things went flying to the ground.

He got farther and farther away. Catalina's vision blurred.

"No, please! Don't leave me here! Don't leave me!"

Catalina shot straight up in bed, gasping.

The dull grey light of near-dawn shone through the window just outside her bedroom door. The sheets were tangled around her legs; she tore at them, tossing them aside to the floor in a panic.

Her leg was fine. Well, as fine as it had been when she went to bed. The scars were the reddish-pink color of healing tissue, and there were no new cuts or pieces of wire sticking out of her.

It had just been a nightmare. That horrible, heartstopping recurring nightmare of the events of last year. Catalina's entire body shook, and sweat had plastered several curls to her forehead.

She lay back against the pillow. She definietly could not go back to sleep. She had never been able to, after that particular nightmare. It was all so real, as if she were reliving that terrible night over and over again. Each time she awoke, Catalina expected to be in the tiny closet of a theatre down south, where she had awakened after the accident. Rictadore had patched her, brought her back to the world, and paid a surgeon an exhorbitant fee to restore the movement in her leg. Catalina supposed she ought to be grateful to him, except she knew he'd done it solely for her dancing profits, and for the fact that he'd added cut marks to make her scars "asthetically pleasing".

There was no use harping on the past. Catalina stretched out an arm and grabbed her sketchbook off the nightstand. The drawing she had done last night brought a smile to her face.

She had drawn Luke and Eric as she had seen them from the stage during opening night. She had drawn the rest of the audience in shadows, and highlighted their faces as the central aspect, by far some of the best shading and depth perception she had ever done. Catalina had tried to capture them as she had seen them for the first time, emerging from the lake as a girl. They had been awed and surprised. Eric's eyes were wide, and he was smiling (probably because Ivy had just appeared as well) and Luke... even now Catalina wondered how she would ever recreate the sparkle that had accented the gold in his irises. Careful lines drawn with a sharp pencil had captured the dimples in his cheeks and the pull of his lips as he started to grin. He was leaning forward, as if ready to leap out of the opera box and join the story.

Catalina spent the next hour putting the finishing touches on her sketch and writing a letter to accompany it. By then, it was a more reasonable hour to start the day, so she got up and dressed, then mended her pointe shoes before the others emerged from their bedrooms. She knew they would ask about the purple smears beneath her eyes, and the limp she would have for the rest of the day. Today was going to be a day of lying to her family in order to protect a monster. Today was not a good day, and it had barely dawned.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: I'm so sorry it's been forever since my last post! It was midterm week and I didn't get as much free time as I thought I would. Anyway, thanks to all of you for sticking it out through a dark and creepy cliffhanger! In return, I present to you a nice, long one in which we learn a little more about our dashing young prince. Enjoy!**

Luke stormed out of the meeting room and stalked off, ignoring his father's shouts for him to return. He hated council meetings, especially the war council. The main problem facing the country was the rush of men and boys returning to a place where they couldn't find work, housing, or food. Luke was a veteran, and understood the frustrations of his brothers-in-arms. They had just risked their lives for their country, and all they wanted in return was to get back to their lives. He was also a prince, though, and understood the troubles in the political aspects of providing for hundreds of soldiers. There simply weren't any jobs available for them.

"No, the biggest problem facing our country today," Luke groused to a painting hanging on the wall, "is that people make promises they don't intend to keep!"

"What?"

Luke turned and saw Annabella standing next to him, looking confused.

"Oh. It's nothing." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

Annabella linked her arm in his. "Tell me about this 'nothing'. Why does it have you so angry?"

They strolled down the hall at a much more civilized pace than the one Luke had been going at moments before. "It's just...they don't understand the other side of the story. They refuse to acknowledge it. The council simply wants to forget that there are soliders who desperately need our help."

"But that's why they have you," Annabella countered. "You're the soldier of the group. You are supposed to speak up and tell the council what needs to be done."

"That's just it. It feels as if they don't want to listen to me. They tell me I'm overexaggerating the problem. One of them even asked today if I had done my evaluations with a military doctor, and if I had passed."

"What? That's ridiculous!" Annabella cried. "Of course you passed, you're not crazy like those other men are." She blushed. "I apologize if I -"

Luke chuckled and hugged his sister. "No, you didn't offend. All of my old war friends are in perfect mental health, never you fear."

"Maybe that's the problem," Annabella said.

"What is?"

"They don't have any old war friends." Annabella paused and faced her brother. "Allar hasn't seen war before now in nearly one hundred years. None of the members of the council have seen war. They don't know how to deal with it."

The gears in Luke's head finally began turning. "The only reason we won the war was because Sylstran was basically starving and not united. All of our strategy came out of history textbooks or was made up on the battlefield."

"So if we research the problem, find an answer from history -"

"We can apply it now!" Luke spun her around in a circle. " 'Bella, you're a genius!"

"Well, you are tasked to make them listen," Annabella laughed. "I would not want your job. I hate diplomacy."

"But you're good at it."

"Not really. Everything I know I learned from Mama or...hey, that reminds me."

Annabella reached into her dress pocket and withdrew a letter. "Catalina wrote you. She's very good at diplomacy and persuasion, you ought to see what she has to say about your problem."

Luke took the letter. "And just how long were you going to wait before you mentioned this?"

Annabella shrugged, grinning. "If it makes it any better, I saw the council breaking up, so you have nothing to go back to just yet." She skipped off in the opposite direction.

Luke continued on his way, looking for a private place to read his letter. It was far too windy outside to go to the gardens, so he settled for the library. Since no one else was around, Luke decided to sit on one of the oversized floor cushions normally used by the palace children. He dragged it close to the hearth, plopped down in a very unprincelike manner, and tore through the seal.

A gloriously thick stack of papers fell into his lap. Luke unfolded them, and was met with himself.

Catalina had drawn a wonderful pencil sketch of him and Eric in the opera box. The skill made Luke raise his eyebrows. Eric had mentioned that she was good, but this was beyond just good. It was like looking into a mirror.

Luke propped the sketch up on his leg and turned to the letter. He could clearly hear Catalina's voice as he read as if she were standing beside him. She thanked him for coming to the show, and apologized for taking so long to write. She relayed to him the past few weeks of her life, telling him all about what living in a theatre was like, all the pranks the Twelve Swans pulled on the few house dancers who tolerated them, and how the ticket woman made eye contact and winked all the time at her now (apparently she thought Luke and Eric were "just adorable!"). There was an easygoing, relaxed cadence to her words that told Luke all was well far better than her written greetings.

Luke grabbed a pen and paper and began to write back as soon as he was finished reading. Unlike the first letter he'd tried to write, the words came to him easily, and before he knew it, he had filled three pages front and back.

He threw his head back against the cushion and sighed. Annabella was right; Catalina really would know what to do with the council. Luke had seen her persuade the stubbornist traditionalist while waltzing. Hardly anyone left Catalina's side without a smile; she even managed to make Emma and Lila get along. And besides, it wasn't like Luke was giving away military secrets. He just hated to burden her with such a situation when she already had so much going on.

Plucking another sheet of paper from the stack, Luke put his pen to work explaining the issue. Several wealthy merchants and private landowners had promised to create new jobs specifically for verterans at the beginning of the reconstruction period in the final year of the war. Based on the latest military census, it seemd that they had created just enough work, that this was the perfect solution for dishcharged military personnel.

Unfortunately, once the war ended and the soldiers started looking for work, the stories changed. The merchants claimed much of their cargo stolen overseas or a drop in demands. The landowners said times had gotten tough, they had sold land or the bookkeeper had given them false numbers. In any case, almost everyone had cut back on the number of jobs they were offering. Nearly fifty percent of the Allarian army was unemployed and starving, after promises of steady work and food in the postwar period. Luke was honestly afraid of a rebel revolt.

The council was made up of several of the would-be employers, and the rest were nobles. They were sitting comfortably; they could care less about hungry strangers. It frustrated Luke to no end, and there was nothing his father could do, because the king was considered an equal, and had no power over the other members.

Luke didn't like to end his letter on such a bad note, but it felt good to get the issue off his chest. He sealed the envelope, and went to find Annabella to address it.

The next council meeting was to take place in two weeks' time. Luke had to come up with something to present before then. The problem was becoming serious; the crime rate had steadily increased since the war.

"I understand how you feel," King William said to his son. It was late, and Luke had gone to his father's study to apologize for his earlier behavior."It is a difficult situation, and a personal one for you as well. But you must keep your temper in check."

"Father," Luke's tone was commanding and pleading all at the same time. "The members of the council are lying to our faces! We all know there have been no pirate raids or highwaymen or lying bookkeepers. They simply do not wish to help anymore, it's more difficult than they anticipated. Or they offered their services to get attention in court. Either way, they are not keeping their word, and are breaking a government contract in the process!"

"I know, but you are the future king," his father said, infuriatingly calm. "You cannot be involved in a shouting match and then storm from the room as if you were no older than Lila. It will affect the image you present when you do become king. No one will take you seriously."

"I may never be king anyway, if the country falls to ruin."

"That is not going to happen."

"It very well could! Look to history, this is how it all starts." Luke grabbed a book he'd found in the library. "See here? Every civilization, every country of old, prospers for generations, are invaded by enemies and dragged into war. Even if they win, they never fully recover. In less than fifty years after the war, the people either revolt or they fall to other nations.

"Don't you see, Father? If we don't make this right, Allar is destined to years of discontent, and we will fall."

King William sat back in his chair, studying his eldest child. No, not a child, a man. A man who had done something his grandfathers hadn't even done: gone to war and survived to come home. Luke had never before been particularly interested in ruling a kingdom; of course, he had gone about his studies wholeheartedly, and never complained, but it had been more of an expectation and a duty. Never before had his son been so passionate about one of the responsibilities of a king. In fact, King William didn't think Luke had ever been so passionate or expressed such strong opinions about anything.

"So," he said, "What do you suppose we do about our wayward council?"

Luke seemed to deflate a little. "I don't know," he sighed. "We've got to persuade them somehow, but I have no idea how to do it. I - I asked the advice of a friend who has experience in these kinds of things. And I'm going to figure it out before the next meeting."

The king nodded slowly. "That is all I can ask of you. Let us hope you have a wise friend."

Luke only nodded before leaving the study. His father smiled slyly at the closed door, a flush of red on Luke's neck telling him exactly who this friend was.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Fortunately, Luke did not have to wait long for Catalina to reply. Three days after he mailed the letter, Annabella passed Luke in the hall carrying an armload of parcels - and an envelope.

"Wait!" she cried, snatching the letter back just before he took it. "Did you ask her?"

"Of course I did," Luke said, sounding indignent. "Now give it here, I want to know what she said."

As she handed over the letter, Annabella lost several of her packages. Giving an exaggerated sigh, Luke heped her deliver the rest of the bundles before escaping to his room.

Luke was slightly disappointed when he saw Catalina had only written a single page, but she reassured him in the opening lines.

_Dear Luke,_

_I'm terribly sorry this letter will be significantly shorter than the last, but I thought you would like an answer to your dilemma as soon as possible. I promise to write much more about everything else you wrote and more soon._

_In regards to your war council...well, I wish I couls say this was an abnormal occurance, but that would be a lie. I mean no offense, but in my experience, people of wealth make promises that they don't intend to keep. Of course, I don't mean that about everyone of this class, because I have met very generous people of wealth and poorer folk who were incredible liars and manipulators as well, but it does tend to happen more often with the wealthy. Oh, I've dug myself into a hole now. _

_Anyway, my point is that you have to make it personal to them. Often those with money simply don't know what it's like to live without it, as they were most likely born into wealth, and they socialize with people in the same circles. If you give the problem a face, particularly one they weren't expecting, most can be convinced to change their minds. Unfortunately the only example of this I can provide has to do with us. Whenever a client backs out, and we need the money, we offer to perform for free. Afterwards, they usually will agree to a renegotiated contract. I don't know if this is because we can dance better than they expected, or because we're girls, but the method hasn't failed yet. It's just the concept of making the council members see faces, not numbers, and getting them to understand that all the reports and paperwork they see everyday actually equates to real, live people. You will have to give some as well, but from what you've told me, the fault lies completely with them, so I don't see you having to compromise too much._

_Might I just add that what you are doing...it is excellent. We've met soldiers on our travels, and they complain about the lack of, well, everything. With your permission, I shall start telling them help is coming soon, that you haven't forgotten about them. Don't take it the wrong way - the soldiers aren't necessarily angry, just frustrated and disappointed. I'm sure they will willingly forgive the delay once help does come._

_Let me know how it all goes!_

_Yours,_

_Catalina._

Luke couldn't help but laugh out loud. "Oh, Catalina! Why are you so afraid of stepping on toes? Your ideas are amazing!"

Give the problem a face. Luke grinned. He knew several faces who would be glad to represent the problem. Luke didn't know why he hadn't thought of it before.

After dinner that night, Luke saddled his horse and rode to the capital city. He wore the plainest clothes he could find, and used the oldes tack available on his horse. He rode right through the center plaza of the city as darkness fell and the more respectable businesses closed down for the day. Luke ignored the various glances being shot his way when people noticed he was headed for a rougher neighborhood.

Luke expertly guided his horse through the narrow alleyways until he reached a run-down looking livery. A boy of no more than eleven professionally and skillfully took care of his horse. Luke paid for the night and continued his journey on foot.

He passed several street corners with the familiarity of dozens of trips, until he arrived at his destination: an apartment building with a crumbling brick face adorned with peeling mortar and plaster, all illuminated by a single, flickering streetlamp.

Luke turned the corner around the building and made his way down a flight of stairs to the basement. He could hear muffled voices coming from inside, which stopped abruptly when he knocked.

The door opened a crack. "Who you be?" a man's voice called.

"It's me, you bunch of miscreants," Luke replied. "Let me in already, it's cold out here."

Before he even finished speaking, the door was thrown open and he was yanked inside.

"Well, if it isn't ol' Lukie himself!" The voice belonged to one Andrew Dartmen, Luke's drill sergeant from his army days. "Clean up a bit, lads, we've royal comp'ny."

Two other men jumped to their feet to give Luke a good slap on the back. They were Connor Salysson and Romeau Porteal, the two privates who had been Luke's tentmates.

"Your Highness," Romeau said in an exaggerated snooty voice. He bowed with many flourishes and heel-clicking.

"All right, you've had your fun. Now stop it," Luke tried to sound annoyed, but he was grinning from ear to ear. These were the only friends he had made as himself, not with a title, and their attitude towards him hadn't changed a bit when they learned who he was. Except for the teasing.

"What brings you here so late?" Connor asked.

Luke crossed his arms. "I should be asking you the same question. Why is it that whenever I find work for you, you can never keep it for more than a month?"

Connor shrugged. "We always find others who need it more."

"Yes, not everyone has such a cozy basement." Romeau spread his arms wide to encompass the two cold, dark rooms they lived in.

"In all seriousness," Andrew said, "what are ye doin' here, lad? They don't like strangers here, 'specially after dark."

"I have a favor to ask of you," Luke said, "but I'll tell you over dinner. Swallow your pride, Andrew, and let's go."

"If he swallows his pride," Romeau whispered to the other two behind Andrew's back, "I'm not sure he'll have room for supper!"

They travelled down the block to an inn that looked nearly as bad as the apartment building, but was well-known among the locals to serve the best meals for cheap. The innkeeper and his wife were nearly run off their feet trying to keep up with the crowd, but nevertheless had a smile for everyone who sat down.

"Now see here," Connor said after they'd placed their orders, "You know you don't need to ask us any favors, Luke. You're one of us, we'll do whatever you need us to."

"I'm afraid this is a bit complicated," Luke admitted. "I need you to speak to the council of war next week."

Over bowls of warm, savory stew, Luke explained the entire, long-drawn-out situation. Then he described what he needed his friends to do before the council.

"I've told them my story a thousand times," Luke finished. "I've told them about you and all the others out there. But they refuse to believe me. They insist I'm overexaggerating because I am more accustomed to a wealthy lifestyle, or whatever excuses they like to make."

"Ye were right when ye said 'twas complicated," Andrew mumbled.

"But I still agree with Connor here," Romeau said, slapping Luke's shoulder. "We'll tell our sob stories for your stodgy old council."

"And if they still won't listen, well, I'm sure a classroom lecture from the sergeant here will change their minds," Connor added, jokingly referring to Andrew's rather intense interrogation techniques.

"I just might let you," Luke laughed, "so be ready, won't you, Andrew?"

They spent about an hour at their corner table, getting caught up. Luke wisely left out any mention of Catalina, not wanting to offer up more for his old friends to tease him about. It was quite late when Luke slid from his chair and approached the front to pay.

He had brought only smaller coppers and bits with him, to better blend in and avoid getting robbed. The harried innkeeper's wife totalled the bill and waited patiently while he carefully counted the coins. Two small heads peeped out from around their mother's skirts, dark smudges under their huge blue eyes.

"Thank you, sir. I hope you all enjoyed your meals."

"Very much so." Luke reached into an inner pocket and discreetly withdrew a silver, the largest coin he dared carry.

"Oh, no, I couldn't - " the woman whispered.

Luke dropped it into her purse, along with the rest of his bill. "Of course you can." He winked at the children. "Buy your children something sweet."

The poor woman looked as if she might cry. "Thank you very kindly, sir. You are a godsend."

Romeau and Connor half-wrestled him as they left. "Good ol' Lukie. Making maidens weep at the mere sight of him."

"And busy spoiling the children. Speaking of which, how are those sisters of yours, anyway?"

"Sleeping. It's past your bedtime, too."

"Would ye quit askin' after the princesses?" Andrew playfully cuffed Romeau's ear. "The Princess Lila is far to young for ye."

The night felt even lonelier and colder than before as Luke left his friends and made his way back to the livery. The watchboy was fast asleep at the desk; Luke covered him with a saddle blanket as he left.

His father was waiting up for him when he slipped back into the family's private wing of the palace. King William readily agreed to Luke's plan, even going so far as to have nothing to add. Luke had never created a political move his father had no way of making better.

The day before the meeting, Luke set out to the city bright and early, on foot. There was no way to get four horses to the apartment, especially if three were riderless. Ten miles was far shorter than any military march anyway, and the walk gave them time to discuss their "battle plans".

By the time the group made it back to the palace, it was late afternoon. Brieanna and Lila raced down the long palace drive to greet them.

"Uncle Andrew! Connor! Romeau!" Lila cried as she launched herself into Andrew's arms. The sergeant was only in his forties, but he doted on Luke's sisters like a long-lost, elderly uncle from the moment he set eyes on them. Having no uncles by blood, the girls were more than willing to allow him to fill the role.

"Princess Brieanna," Connor bowed low. "Why, you look more and more like a lady every time I see you." He took her hand and kissed it.

Brieanna giggled and blushed. With two older sisters and her faraway personality, she didn't usually get much attention. "That's because you never visit enough."

Connor clutched his heart dramatically. "Princess! You wound me with your accusations."

They went through the main halls of the palace, ignoring the stares from visiting nobility and their travelling staff. Luke's sisters immediately dragged their honorary uncle and brothers into a game of chess - well, a unique version of chess that was more like the battles Luke commanded his army of toy soldiers through as a boy, invented by Romeau and Annabella after a failed chess lesson. King William and Queen Victoria, understanding that the soldiers were uncomfortable dining with them in an informal setting, sent word that they would take dinner with some of the visiting nobles, and the girls could entertain their guests however they pleased.

Right after breakfast the next morning, the king and four former soldiers went to the meeting hall. Lord Pentron spoke up as soon as he saw men of a lower class, for even their army uniforms were significantly careworn.

"Who are these men? This is a private, political meeting."

"Lord Pentron," Luke said smoothly. Pentron was by far the man causing the most trouble. "Please, allow me to introduce you to Sergeant Major Andrew Dartmen, and Privates Connor Salysson and Romeau Porteal, of the 7th Infantry Division of the Allarian army."

Lord Pentron nodded sharply, still looking like he was sucking on a lemon, while the other members of the council mumbled greetings. Before anyone else could protest, Luke plunged on, "These fine soldiers are here to speak to you gentlemen about their lives in the army and their experiences after the war."

"Don't tell us you're still harping on that issue, my prince." This came from Mr. Jefferson, a merchant.

"Indeed I am," Luke answered, doing his best to keep his cool. He took his seat. "Private Salysson, would you kindly begin?"

Connor straightened his jacket as he walked to the front of the room. "Good morning, gentlemen. My experiences in the army were some of the best times of my life, and the worst. My father is a farmer in a country town about a three days' ride from here. As the second son, I always knew I would have to make my own way in the world. I was nineteen when the war began, and a career in the army didn't seem like such a bad idea. My older brother is dear to me, but he was always busy learning how to manage the farm, something I couldn't relate to. The friends I made during my enlistment, however, shared a special bond that I couldn't have with my brother. We were all in the same place together, doing the same things, for the protection of our country. We are brothers-in-arms, willing to die for each other. Some did.

"Unfortunately, half of my family's lands were destroyed by raids. My brother is married, with a daughter and another child on the way. He lives on the farm with our parents, and they're barely making ends meet. I can't move back home, we'll all starve. So I stay here, finding work where I can, and send as much money home as possible, as I did with my army wages. The three of us, we're getting by all right, and we have Prince Luke to help us out. But there are others out there who are far worse off than us."

Connor bowed, a little uncertain how to end, and sat down next to Luke. Romeau got up next, but before he could speak, another lord piped up, "Are you sure you're a soldier, boy? You don't look old enough to have fought."

"Yessir, I am a soldier," Romeau answered with pride. "I was nearly fifteen upon enlistment." He paused a moment to wait for the whispers to die down.

"My family lived right on the border of Allar and Sylstran. We owned a flock of sheep, and it was my duty to care for them whenever I was not in school, so my parents could prepare and sell the fibre. I was in the fields when the Sylstrans attacked our village. I don't know if it was rebels or the king's men; both sides were just poor men, and poor men will do desperate things to try and save themselves and their families. Either way, my family was killed, and in the following weeks, most of our flock stolen.

"None of the other survivors could affort to take me in, so when the enlistment notices passed by us, several other boys and I joined. We agreed to send all our wages to the village as a whole, and the recruiting officers pushed us through despite our age, whether through desperation or pity, I haven't a clue. I was basically the baby of our regiment, and everyone treated me as such, but they couldn't protect me from everything.

"I had no one to go home to after we won. My village was still being rebuilt, and I have no extended family that I know of. Sergeant Dartmen and Private Salysson invited me to bunk with them in the basement of an apartment building, and we've been there ever since. Sometimes we get hungry, but it's better to be hungry in like company than hungry alone, in my experience."

Andrew went last. "Well. Ye can tell from me accent that I'm not from near here. I was born way up north, married a lass an' lost her, and 'twas such a bad time, felt better t' leave than stay. Joined up in the military long before any fightin', so 'twas not a difficult question in me mind whether to fight or not. Come wartime, I was a sergeant for nigh on five years.

"Aye, 'twas good comp'ny I be in! These lads here, all I trained, includin' our prince - although, nary a soul knew who he be. Meself, I didn't know what to make of 'im. One glance, he be starin' ye right in th' eyes, the next, backin' away. Private Salysson be a hardworkin' lad, an' more than willin' to do the job of two men if it please ye. An' Private Porteal, aye all o' heaven above! I never thought he'd get th' chance to be a man, what with all the dotin' from the others!. But they all became fine men an' fine soldiers.

"And now, well, times be tough all 'round. Prince Luke here does his best when he can, but one lad can only give so much silver to starvin' beggar children. An' he does right by us. We get work regular, but there always be a poor lad with no home an' no food at all, while we got some bread and roof. So we give 'im our work, an' we mean no offense to ye, Prince, but we 'ave our part to do, too."

Andrew sat down. Luke had planned to deliver an argument here, his best yet, but his father spoke. "Thank you, gentlemen. Your stories are enlightening to a group of wealthy men unaccustomed to hardship. And, might I add my personal thanks for serving our country."

Lord Pentron cleared his throat. "It is obvious, Prince Luke, what you are doing. You are trying to get us all sentimental so that we will find a solution to your quite imaginary problem."

Luke could feel his temper rising. Angry words formed on his tongue, but he was again interrupted.

"I agree with you, Lord Pentron," Lord Hassel, another landowner, said. "But I must say, Prince Luke, that your approach is remarkably effective. I haven't really thought of the discharged soldiers as men - not really, honestly thought and believed it. I stay on my estates, or here in the palace, and don't see the world around me. We all do it. And today, Prince Luke and the soldiers have reminded us that we are not dealing with paperwork and numbers, but rather men of flesh and blood. I say we motion a new vote on the article of postmilitary employment. I, for one, will be changing my ballot."

The ball was rolling from there. Within the hour, a new contract was written and voted upon. Lord Pentron was the only one who voted against it.

The rest of the meeting progressed smoothly, with everyone working together better than they had in nearly two years. The soldiers were even invited as permanent consultants to the council, to give the insight of ordinary, honest citizens.

"We've done it!" Luke cheered when the meeting adjourned. "I really can't thank you all enough."

"'twas nothing at all," Andrew scoffed.

"And look, you found us work again," Romeau said.

"Don't you dare give it up next month."

The soldiers were saying goodbye to the princesses when a maid delivered several letters to Annabella. The princess shuffled through the stack, removed one, and handed it to Luke.

"What's that?" Romeau asked, a mischevious glint in his eye.

"Nothing," Luke insisted, but since it was impossible to keep secrets with little sisters, Lila overpowered him with, "A letter from Miss Cat."

"Miss Cat?" Andrew said. "An' who be this Miss Cat?"

"A ballerina," Emma cheerfully supplied.

"Lukie li-ikes her," Brieanna added in a singsong voice.

"Our Luke, writing to a ladylove?" Connor said, shocked. "I never thought the day would come! I always believed him to be nothing more than a heartbreaker."

The girls giggled and started to tell them all about Catalina, what she looked like, how she and Luke had danced onstage, and walked in the gardens every day, and how sad he had been when she left. The more information Connor and Romeau gathered, the wider they grinned.

Annabella came to Luke's rescue. "All right, girls, that's enough! Say goodbye."

Luke could feel his face getting hot as he avoided eye contact with his friends. He sighed, tucked his letter away in his breast pocket, and braced himself for the merciless ribbing he was about to get.

**A/N 2: Also, a shout-out to silverliningineachcloud, for offering free advertising. If you're reading this per her recommendation, a digital cookie for you! And if you're not, thanks for reading anyway!**


	12. Chapter 12

Catalina had never seen the theatre so full as it was on that night.

Nearly three months had passed since the wildly successful opening night of the swan ballet, and rumors had spread all over, especially in regards to the thrid act. People had flocked to tonight's show at the Twelve Swan's second theatre stop, despite the heavily falling snow, to see what they could do this time. The expectations of course were expressed by the theatre director, who decided to try and become a famous playwright by rewriting the ballet.

At this theatre, the Twelve Swans were to put on the ballet called _Giselle_. The story is about a young lord who disguises himself as a peasant in order to escape an arranged marriage to a nasty, vain girl. While in hiding, he falls in love with a village girl named Giselle. Giselle loves to dance, but unfortunately has a weak heart, and her mother forbids dancing for fear of her daughter's illness. Giselle is also being romantically pursued by the local huntsman, a gruff, dull man with two left feet. The lord in disguise is about to propose to Giselle at the autumn harvest festival, when his nasty finacee shows up and demands her wedding. Upon finding out her love's lies, poor Giselle's heart gives out, and she dies in his arms.

In the second act, Giselle's ghost is approached by the Wilis, the ghosts of young women who died before marriage. They take their revenge on the living by forcing any young men they meet to dance to their deaths. Giselle is happy amongst them, for now she may dance for as long as she wishes, with no nagging mother or weak heart to stop her.

Unfortunately, Giselle's happiness does not last long. The lord, who still loves her deeply, visits her grave every day. His father had presented him with a choice after Giselle's death: proceed with the arranged marriage or be disowned. The lord chose the second option, having been content in his peasant life and far too grief-stricken to even consider marriage. Giselle realizes how much she misses him, and night after night convinces the Wilis that he is undeserving of their wrath.

One night, as the young lord weeps, Giselle simply can't take it any longer, and appears before him. Overjoyed, the lord shares a dance with the ghost of his beloved, only to be caught by the Wilis. The Wilis are quickly distracted by the arrival of the huntsman who had also loved Giselle, which allows Giselle to hide the lord in the forest. Horrified, they watch as the Wilis force the huntsman to dance all night, until he drops dead at sunrise.

Their lust for blood renewed, Giselle is unable to convince the Wilis to spare her beloved the next night. The queen of the Wilis spitefully reminds Giselle that she is one of them, and must participate that night and every night for the rest of eternity. Heartbroken all over again, Giselle desperately tries to break formation with the Wilis as they force the lord to dance that night. Each time she manages to dance alongside him, her love grants him a little more life, so at sunrise, he is just barely alive.

The original ballet has Giselle's love for the lord break the Wilis' power over men, sparing the lord and sending the ghosts to their graves permanently. As a Wilis, Giselle also returns to her grave to finally rest in peace, leaving the lord alone in the land of the living. However, seeing the success the Twelve Swans received after giving a tragedy a happy ending, the theatre director decided to try his hand at it. Just as Giselle's love spares the lord's life, his love for her is so strong, it harnesses the power of the Wilis and brings Giselle back to life, complete with a strong, healthy heart in her chest. They get married and live out their days in the village.

Catalina, dressed in her peasant girl costume for the first act, paced around backstage, occasionally peeping between the curtains to see the packed theatre.

"Just relax, Cat," Elizabeth soothed.

"Why are you so nervous?" Tiana asked. "Prince Luke isn't here."

"I know," Catalina said, "and I don't think I'm nervous. I just hate being Giselle. Elle is really better for the part."

Elle, with her fair skin, golden hair, and delicate features, was a far better casting choice for the ghost of a young, innocent girl. Catalina always felt too dark and substantial to successfully portray an etheral being. Catalina had at least convinced Rictadore to cast Elle as the queen of the Wilis.

Elle was also the focus of Catalina's sketch for Luke, shrouded in ghostly mystery. With nearly every letter, Catalina sent along a picture that she felt illustrated a part of her life better than words could. She chose Elle to demonstrate her unspoken frustrations: her anger at being a favorite of Rictadore's, and questioning why, for Elle was certainly skilled enough to dance the role. Also, at the fact that they were now dancing three nights a week at the pavillion, and Catalina sometimes four or five.

The one highlight of Catalina's days were her letters. What with doing the administration of two lead dancers and the long nights, it normally would have been difficult to see the good things in her life. But writing to Luke had helped her to do just that. She didn't want to only tell him about the horrible things going on, and she couldn't tell him about her dancing troubles. And writing to a live person was far more rewarding than keeping a diary because she got letters back. Since the Twelve Swans had moved so far from the palace, Catalina had stopped waiting for replies and simply wrote whenever she had something to say, which felt like all the time. Whenever the tiniest thing happened, Catalina would be bursting to tell Luke. From teh dates on his letters, it seemed he felt the same way.

Before the week was out, Catalina received a reply. She eagerly tore into it as soon as she found five minutes alone, which meant it sat in her pocket all day. Luke wrote about all the good the war council was doing now that the members weren't at odds. Andrew, Connor and Romeau fit right in, and were receiving consultant's fees, which was a significant salary to someone who had been flat broke. They were at the palace often, and growing closer to Luke's family each time they visited. The princesses absolutely adored them, especially since they didn't have many blood relatives. Connor's sister-in-law had safely delivered a healthy baby boy several days ago, and if Connor was a proud uncle, well, Luke's sisters were strutting peacocks! Catalina marveled at the loving, accepting nature of girls who could so readily adopt family they hadn't even met. According to Luke, they sent "an entire treasure trove" of gifts to the baby and the big sister (equal amounts, so she didn't feel left out, as per Brieanna's instructions) and were eagerly counting down the days until the new mother said he was old enough to receive visitors.

_Annabella, I think, is angry at us. It seems that I write to you far too often, and she has become fed up with trying to address so many envelopes and relay so much mail! So she has given me permission to forge her handwriting, "for letter-writing purposes only, Luke!". So if this envelope seems suspicious, it's because I tried to write it._

_ I don't see what her fuss is about. I personally look forward to your letters. Perhaps she's jealous because the only reason anyone writes her is because she's the eldest princess. Ah, well. I had to join the army under a false surname to make friends who didn't see a crown. Any ideas as to what the female equivalent is?_

_ Although I will say the only downside of your letters is the art. Don't get me wrong - I adore it. I could open a gallery with all the sketches I have tucked away. But I never get any self portraits. I get lots of landscapes, and scenes of bustling streets or beautiful gardens, and Ivy and Tiana and Elle. Everyone you know, really, except yourself. If the artist is taking commissions, and is not afraid of mirrors (we could add 'vampire' to your list of accomplishments), this humble patron would request a likeness of the artist herself._

This passage near the end of the letter gave Catalina mixed emotions. On one hand, she was flattered that Luke desired a likeness of her, and the idea made her heart pound. On the other, she was terrified of lying to him, even with her pencil. If she were to draw a likeness of herself, Catalina would have to include the dark circles under her eyes and sharper-looking cheekbones in order to give an honest rendering. And she couldn't send Luke that.

On the next trip to the pavillion, Catalina shared her fears.

"Ooh! It's so romantic that he wants a picture of you!" Elle clapped her hands.

"Why can't you doctor your picture up a bit?" Jessica asked. "I'm sure all the nobles do it to their portraits. They can't all be that perfect-looking."

Catalina sighed. "I couldn't. I can't lie to him. Everything I write is true; if there's something he can't know, like this," she waved her hands at the silver trees above, "then I just avoid it. And it still feels like lying."

Ivy nodded in agreement. "It's so difficult. They always say successful couples have no secrets from each other, and yet..."

Catalina blushed at the idea of her and Luke as a couple, as Elizabeth gave Ivy a motherly hug. She wasn't sure she could quite yet categorize their relationship at that level.

Julia turned to her. "Well then maybe you ought to play hard-to-get."

"Yes!" Isabelle agreed. "Just avoid the subject all together, make him work for it."

"He already did! He asked for it."

"That would take courage," Clara mused.

"But you can't always give in so easily," Tiana said. "Otherwise, he'll always think he can get whatever simply by asking."

Violet whirled on her. "That's just mean!"

"I agree!" Lily said. "The prince asked nicely, didn't he?"

Catalina could only laugh at the lot of them. Sometimes she felt they enjoyed her and Luke's relationship more than she did.

A long night of dancing effectively drained the energy from them, though. Even Catalina was too tired to worry over it that night. In the end, she decided to take part of their advice. She kindly declined his commission, claiming she was backed up on requests. Then, as a joke, she sent a drawing of the only people she knew personally that had not yet graced her pages: Luke's sisters.

He wasn't very amused. But he understood.

They continued writing letters at a steady, rapid pace. The Twelve Swans were still in the city during the Christmas season, fortunately,and Catalina spent all her pin money buying presents for the girls and Luke in less than two hours. The girls got practical things, like hair supplies or crafting tools, differing depending on her likes and hobbies. Catalina was at a complete loss, however, when it came to shopping for men. Luckily, a kindly storekeeper took her under her wing and recommended she buy a braided leather bracelet that was all the rage now, and surprisingly inexpensive. Catalina had just enough to purchase one with three dark yellow woooden beads woven into brown leather, the colors selfishly reminding her of Luke's eyes.

Luke sent her jewelry as well: a silver-spun rose on a delicate, barely-there chain, because "the swan design had too much neck and large feet to look half as graceful as you do onstage. So I settled for our other symbol." He also sent more satin - could he get any more considerate?

During their last week of _Giselle,_ Catalina received a letter that waited impatiently to be read all day. The only chance Catalina got was backstage, twenty minutes before curtain, with all of her adopted sisters reading over her shoulder.

Keeping the edges of the paper slightly bent, Catalina summarized the contents of the letter to keep the girls satisfied. "Luke likes his bracelet. He says he is the only one in court to be up-to-date on the latest fashion trends."

"See, 'Beth?" Jessica nudged Elizabeth. "I told you he'd like it."

"And he says that next year he wants to put a big tree up in the city plaza, and his friends will convince whatever councils necessary to make it happen."

Just outside the theatre was a giant Christams tree, decorated by the citizens. Catalina had done one of her very best drawings to date of that very scene: people putting up homemade decorations of parchment, strings of popcorn and berries, and bright tinsel, while children pelted everyone with snowballs.

Catalina read on and laughed out loud.

"What? What did he say?" Julia demanded.

"Oh, just - " Catalina broke off, realizing she would have to explain. "Well, he said he picked my necklace because a rose was one of our symbols. The other is a swan, which Luke claims was too gangly looking, so he chose a rose. I told him that if he was going to pick a plant, it should really be the Devil's Leaf, and he said the jeweler would have given him a very strange look if he asked for a necklace resembeling poison, not to mention what people would say..."

Only Clara really got it, having seen the prince's injury. The next bit made Catalina blush, but refuse to share. Luke explained that he liked to give her silver things because the color brought out the shine in her hair and the sparkle in her eyes.

(Catalina was very upset that her combs could not be used in this production, but wore her new necklace under her costume.)

They performed _Giselle _to thunderous applause, as they had most every night since the premier. As Catalina took her bows, some of the lanterns near the stage were turned up, in preparation for exiting patrons. Catalina could finally see the faces of the audience members closest to the stage. She locked eyes with one in the fourth row, and her blood ran cold.

She wore a dark green dress, made of expensive-looking material, ged with lace and accompanied by a matching cape lined with fur. Her dark hair was down and perfectly straight as always, a quality curly-haired Catalina had always envied. She was clapping her white gloved hands, but not half as enthusiastically as the people around her. Her brown eyes held Catalina's blue ones for several long seconds, before turning downward.

It was Melanie.


	13. Chapter 13

Catalina couldn't believe her eyes, but there was no denying it. The Twelfth Swan, missing for eight months, was right there in the audience. It took every ounce of willpower Catalina possessed to keep the smile on her face.

Catalina was furious, but she dared not tell the others. Rictadore would kill them if they made a scene and attacked a paying patron of the arts, even if she was a traitor. Besides, Rictadore was waiting for them at the pavillion.

"What's wrong with Cat?" Isabelle whispered as they all watched her crash open the swan gates and storm through the garden.

"No idea," Jessica said.

"She's just stressed, that's all," Elizabeth said.

Catalina was so upset, the enchanting music didn't win her over as it usually did. She danced and thought of every single moment of the past eight months when she had been doing Melanie's work instead of eating or sleeping or just having time for herself. And of all the places to reappear! Snuggled up in her warm fur cape and comfortable dress, and shoes that didn't have holes in them. Melanie's dancing blisters had probably healed, too, while the rest of them were creating new ones. Melanie probably slept regularly, too, and ate three full meals a day, not one or two the way they did on theatre budget.

"Catalina!" Rictadore's voice boomed in her ears. Startled out of her angry thoughts, Catalina's tired feet tripped over each other and she fell in the bushes. "Control yourself, girl!"

The other girls kept dancing; the music had either drowned Rictadore out he was speaking in her head. Her furious dancing was apparently unsuitable for whatever purpose he had in dragging them down here night after night. Catalina sighed, trying to expel all her tension and anger in one breath, still sprawled in the garden. A shadow pulled itself away from the rest of the darkness and growled in her ear. It snapped its teeth at her hands. Catalina snatched her hands back and tiredly joined the formation again, her skin crawling as she felt the shadow's eyes following her.

For the rest of the night, Catalina kept her thoughts on Luke. Just thinking his name relaxed her. In fact, for two whole days, whenever she was tempted to think about Melanie, she thougth about him instead. It worked up until Catalina saw Melanie again.

She was wearing lavendar this time, and her cape was much shorter and trimmed in wide silk ribbon. A smart white bonnet covered her hair, and tan kid gloves protecting her hands. Melanie's feet were encased in sturdy boots with a two-inch heels that clicked on the cobblestones. Rictadore forbid them from wearing heels; they were expensive, and caused twisted ankles.

Catalina had been out doing grocery shopping for the week, an incredibly difficult task on Rictadore's small food allowance. All she knew was that one moment she was scruitinizing potatoes, and the next her feet were carrying her, unbidden, to Melanie's side.

Melanie was startled to see her, that much was clear, but there was something in her eyes that Catalina couldn't read. She didn't say anything as Catalina stood over her.

Catalina threw her arms around Melanie.

For all the anger of the last few nights, Catalina just couldn't go through with it. Sure, Melanie had been horrible to live with, and cruel to just disappear like she had, but she was still one of Catalina's sisters.

"I'm so glad you're okay," she said.

Melanie, on the other hand, was shocked speechless. She had been waiting for Catalina to strike her, and she knew she deserved it. Catalina looked exhausted.

"So where have you been all this time?" Catalina continued. "Don't tell me we weren't invited to the wedding."

"Uh - I - no," Melanie stuttered. "No, I'm not married. I - I found my family."

"Really?"

Melanie's familyhad been categorized alongside her duke - imaginary. But for as long as anyone could remember, Melanie had insisted that her family was still alive, that she had been left at the orphanage by mistake.

"Yes," Melanie turned and gestured across the marketplace. "There they are."

An elderly gentleman leaned on the arm of a woman just a little older than the girls. Catalina could immediately see her relation to Melanie, for they had the same face and hair. Another, younger man was with them, looking at the sparse winter produce. They were all dressed as finely as Melanie, and were laughing and talking.

"That's my grandfather," Melanie explained, "and my sister, Meredith, my real sister!"

"You've had eleven sisters for twenty years," Catalina said dryly.

"Well, this is different," Melanie insisted. Catalina had to smile; some things never changed.

"And that's Meredith's husband, Albert." This was a bit unnecessary, as the couple was stealing a kiss. "They've been married two years."

"How on earth did you find them?"

Melanie shifted the basket on her arm. "I found a paper in Rictadore's desk. It had lists of names on it, dozens, but Grandfather's stood out, because - because - his didn't have a date of death beneath it."

Catalina swallowed, and forced herself not to think about all those names.

"And then, I thought I recognized the surname as my mother's maiden name. I tried to forget it, I really did, but then we had the late snowstorm and got stuck at the port city, remember? The paper of Rictadore's had addresses, too, and Grandfather lived at the port. So I went to his house and asked if he knew my parents. One thing led to another and well...I never went back out that night."

"Melanie, that's wonderful!" Catalina couldn't help but grin. "I'm very happy for you. But you could have sent word!" She dropped her voice to a whisper, "Do you have any idea the things I thought had happened to you?"

"I know," Melanie said, "And I'm sorry now, but at the time... I guess I just wanted to cut all ties."

"Does your family know?"

Melanie didn't need clarification. "My grandfather came to the orphanage the day after Rictadore, so he knew I had been...taken by a dancing instructor. So he knows I've been dancing all this time with the Twelve Swans. That's why we were at the show. We were visiting Albert's family for the holidays and Grandfather thought I would want to see you. And I never dance for him, so I guess he wanted to see what I could do."

Melanie left out the fact that she had been worrying ever since then that her family would comment at how awful the Twelve Swans had looked, and would ask her about her past life, so much that she had nearly forgotten Catalina had recognized her.

"We haven't done Giselle in a while," she said, desperate to fill the silence that had developed as Catalina frugally shopped. "You all danced really well. But how are you - how are you really?"

Catalina allowed herself a tired sigh. "Not good. It's three nights in a row now."

"A month?"

"A week."

Melanie dropped her basket, but recovered quickly, as people were beginning to stare at two whispering girls. Fortunately, they were both saved from trying to keep the conversation going by Meredith calling.

"Melanie, dear," Meredith came across the market. "How are you doing?"

"Fine," Melanie answered, with the most genuine grin Catalina had ever seen her wear. "Meredith, this is Catalina Torrez, my, ah -"

"The beautiful dancer from the show," Meredith finished, shaking Catalina's hand. "It's very nice to meet you. I understand you've known Mel for most of your lives."

"Yes, we were at the same orphanage, and we danced together for, well, forever."

Catalina was then introduced to everyone, and invited to finish her shopping with them. She soon found herself recounting tales of their childhood, and though Melanie was reluctant at first, she quickly joined in. She was the happiest Catalina had ever seen her in their lives. Perhaps they had been too harsh, too quick to write Melanie off as mean, and her stories as insignificant.

"Have you heard about the prince?" Meredith said cheerily. Catalina's heart began to race. "They say he's been writing letters to a young lady."

Melanie expressed a desire to hear more, as Meredith cited her source as the woman who sold carrots. Catalina shoved her hands in a barrel of dried apples so no one would see them shake.

"It seems there has been a lot of pesonal mail coming to and from the palace lately."

"Do they have any idea who?" Melanie asked, eager to hear the latest gossip.

"No one knows for sure. But it must be Lady Veronica, the duchess of Kanesbury. She is the only one rumored to be of equal blue blood as teh royal family. Even if it's not her now, they will most certainly be married one day. It's practically all arranged."

"Is that what she was talking about?" Melanie turned to Catalina. "We saw Lady Veroncia just before Christmas, and she was going on and on about an upcoming wedding she claimed was hers. But she refused to name the groom. Have you been to Kanesbury yet?"

Catalina cleared her throat. "No. We're not going this year. But we were at the palace over the summer, and I never saw Lady Veronica there."

Meredith brushed this aside. "A lot can happen in six months. People change."

She continued on about what a great political match it would be, seeing as Lady Veronica's father had a lot of connections and land in foreign countries Allar had not yet made allies with. Catalina almost didn't hear a word, yet she knew everything would be burned into her memory. She felt numb, hollow. She refused to think.

"All right, ladies," Albert interrupted. "Time to stop gossiping and start leaving. The market's closing up."

As she stood in line, Catalina distracted herself by intently counting and recounting the coins Rictadore had given her. She was focusing so hard, she barely noticed when Melanie pulled her basket from her arm.

"These two baskets, please," Melanie said to the vendor. Catalina blinked, realizing for the first time that Melanie's purchases were nearly identical to hers. She watched, dumbfounded, as Melanie paid and proceeded to consolidate the foodstuffs into Catalina's basket.

"Not a word, okay? Put your money in your pocket."

Catalina did as she was told.

Melanie's grandfather touched her arm. "Miss Torrez, would you like to have dinner with us?"

Every bone in her body was screaming at her to say yes. "I'm terribly sorry, but I'm afraid I must decline. There is another performance tonight, and tomorrow we are leaving town. Thank you very much, though."

"Well, anytime you are near us, please don't hesitate to visit, all of you." He handed her a calling card. "I would love to get to know you better."

Catalina had to blink tears away as she put the card in her pocket, safely out of Rictadore's sight.

Melanie walked her part of the way to the theatre. "Are you going to tell them?"

"No. It gets crazy around here when we're moving as it is, you know that."

"How's your leg?"

"I've been better, but I've been worse, too."

"Take care of yourselves, okay?" Melanie was deadly serious.

"We will." Catalina hugged her. "I'm sorry for not believing you."

Melanie shrugged. "I probably wouldn't have believed me, either."

Catalina robotically went about putting the groceries away and preparing for the final performance. For once, she felt she could relate to Giselle - surely this ache in her chest was a broken heart.

They did not have to dance that night, but instead of sleeping, all Catalina could think about was Luke and Lady Veroncia. She reread every single one of his letters, pulling them apart with a fine-tooth comb. There was no mention of the duchess or an arranged marriage, but then again, why write to her about that? Catalina fell into a fitful sleep, plagued by her old nightmares.

The next morning, they began the slow return journey north. For two days they travelled, and for two days, Catalina agonized over the gossip spread by Meredith, fiddling with her necklace. Fortunately the extra food made the trip far more enjoyable than ususal.

No letter came from Luke for a week, and Catalina herself had no heart to write. She didn't want to seem naive, assuming something was between them when nothing was there. But then again, maybe Meredith had been given faulty information. It was gossip, after all. So Catalina forced herself to pick up her pen again, and carry on as if nothing had happened, as hard as it was.

"Girl, whatever is the matter with you?" Rictadore asked one afternoon. His voice held little emotion as usual, but that was no indicator for his moods.

Catalina was so tired and frustrated and emotional that she spoke without thinking. "I'm exhausted. I need a night of sleep, we all do."

Immediately, she knew it was a mistake. They were not allowed to complain.

Rictadore's eyes flashed dangerously, and he raised a hand to strike her. Catalina flinched and closed her eyes, to protect them from the cut of his thick ring.

No blow came.

Catalina opened her eyes to see Rictadore lower his palm. He took a step back, and turned to his papers.

"You'll do as you're told, girl, with no complaints. Now go, it's time for rehearsal."

"Yes, maestro."

Catalina was thoroughly confused. Nothing had ever stopped Rictadore from slapping any of them. Makeup could always cover bruises, anyway. Catalina stared at herself in the mirror, trying to see whatever it was that had made him hesitate. She quickly gave up, removed Luke's combs from her hair and twisted it up for dancing, and rushed off.

Another week passed, then two, and still no letter from Luke. Eric was writing Ivy just as regularly as always, and Catalina wrote as often as she could. They moved yet again as spring arrived, and she was sure to include their new address.

"Perhaps he's just busy," Elizabeth suggested.

"Or his letters are getting lost," Ivy added. "That happened to me and Eric once, remember?"

"Rictadore doesn't have them, does he?" Jessica asked quietly.

"No. I looked in all his secret places. Nothing." Catalina sighed. "I think I have to face the fact that he's just stopped writing."

"No, don't say that," Julia insisted. "I'm sure there's a logical explaination."

"Well, either way, we've got another problem on our hands," Tiana said. "I hate to mention it now, but we're out of satin again."

"Rictadore won't buy us new shoes for three months yet," Isabelle cried.

"Don't worry," Violet assured her, "We'll make it."

"We always do," Lily added.

Despite the girls' constant efforts to reassure her, Catalina couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. They moved again, to the last estate on their trip before their return to the palace. One more month, and she would be at Luke's again. All she had to do was wait it out, and he would surely have an answer for everything.

The bad news, however, was on a different schedule.

Catalina and the dancers were invited to tea with their hostess on their first afternoon at her estates. Lady Raspierre was a bit older and prone to babbling secrets, but she was very nice at heart, and always treated them well. Also at tea were several of Lady Raspierre's houseguests and friends, all who were very much like her in personality.

Needless to say, the Twelve Swans were quickly brought up to date on all the latest news of court, despite the fact that most of it "really isn't for such delicate ears". In spite of their penchant for talk, Lady Raspierre and her friends were good company, and Catalina relaxed quickly.

"Did you hear about the wedding?" one of the houseguests suddenly exclaimed.

"No! Do tell," Lady Raspierre answered.

"Well," the other woman began, setting down her teacup, "it seems - and these are only the faintest whispers, mind you - that our crown prince is getting ready to take a bride!"

Catalina swallowed a large gulp of tea, trying to get rid of the dry feeling in her mouth.

"They say he's been writing lots of letters and seeing the Duchess of Kanesbury quite often."

"Veronica of Kanesbury? Why, she's a lovely girl."

"They'll make an excellent couple."

"Her father must be very pleased."

"And the king! The duchess is the very best, and his son and heir deserves nothing less."

"My dear, are you quite all right?"

This last statement was no doubt directed at her, as she had felt the blood drain from her face, but Catalina barely heard it. She felt numb again, and cold all over.

Someone put a hand on her cheek. "Actually, milady," Clara said, "I believe Cat is a bit warm. Would you kindly excuse us?"

"Of course!"

Catalina was pulled to her feet and led from the room. She moved blindly, mechanically, her mind whirling and making connections faster than she wanted it to.

Clara didn't speak until they were safely in their quarters. "Oh, Cat, don't listen to all that. It's just gossip, that's all. I'm sure it amounts to nothing."

"Or it could be true."

Clara hardly recognized the dull tones as those of the normally optimistic Catalina. "No, they are not! Listen, I know what I saw last summer. We all do. Prince Luke wasn't playing with you or using you. It's real, I swear to you. It's the same things we see between Ivy and Eric. You have to believe me."

Catalina nodded, playing with her necklace.

"Good. Now, you take all the time you need. We'll take care of things for once."

Clara left. Catalina sat in silence for a long time, thinking, and trying not to cry but failing. Finally, she wiped her face and pulled out a pen and paper.

She spilled her heart out on the page for what felt like an eternity. When Catalina came back to the world, it was nearly showtime. She performed with her professional smile plastered on her face, but everyone noticed the melancholy air surrounding her. At the pavillion, the girls noticed the bright red handprint on Catalina's pale cheek, but they laughed and joked at her cues anyway. No one knew that under a loose stone in the hearth lay all her letters, her combs, and her necklace, waiting to be forgotten.


	14. Chapter 14

Dancing, dancing, dancing. that was all they did. They didn't sleep, they didn't eat, there was only dance.

The girls stood in their sitting room at the Raspierre estate after emerging from the tapestry. The grey light of dawn was just beginning to appear in the windows, illuminating their ragged dance shoes that dangled from their hands.

"Is it worth going to bed?" Tiana mumbled. The others shrugged and turned to Catalina, waiting for her to recount the day's schedule and give an answer, as usual.

But Catalina was tired of leading, tired of being in charge, tired of being the strong one. She dropped her nearly-destroyed shoes on the floor and sat in the window seat without a word. She heard whispers behind her, and the padding of bare feet as they all left. Catalina leaned her head against the cool glass and stared out at the awakening world, feeling as if she carried it on her shoulders.

Someone sat down on the other side of the cushion. Ivy. Probably the only girl who had the faintest clue of what Catalina was going through. And because of it, Ivy knew Catalina didn't need a hug or to talk and cry. She just needed some company. Catalina gave her a weak smile. They sat together as the sun rose, gazing out at the palace in the distance.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Normally at the palace, the staff would be rising with the sun, but on this morning, they were up hours before it. The royal family was due back in the early morning, and the housekeeper and butler wanted a perfect homecoming when they arrived.

For just over two months, the family had been away travelling. The official story was that they were spending time with distant relatives and other nobility down south. Truthfully, though, not the entire royal family was visiting grandparents. Luke and his father were actually conducting secret meetings with the new king of Sylstran.

The old monarchy of Sylstran had become a dictatorship, and the people had been forced into servitude. They were starving because of severe food shortages, as the king had cut all alliances and trade contracts with foreign countries. Eventually, a group of rebels managed to start a series of attacks against the government, secretly aided by Allar and her allies. Allar became officially involved when the Sylstranian king tried to take lands at the southern border. The new king wasn't a king in the traditional sense; he had been chosen by the people, along with a council of advisors. Almost all of them were poor average citizens in their previous lives, with no idea how to run a country. Several ambassadors from all over the world were currently stationed there, but they couldn't take the place of the individuals with experience. Since the citizens of Sylstran were a bit put off at the idea of more kings trying to run their country (and who could blame them), their new ruler asked King William to visit in secret, such a well-kept one, in fact, that not many people even knew the royal family had left the palace.

At seven thirty, the royal carriage pulled into the palace drive. The king and queen had another important function this afternoon, and a travel delay and forced them to drive most of the night.

"Thank you very much, Max, for all your help on this trip," King William said to the driver. "Have the rest of the week off, see that new baby of yours."

Max grinned. "Thank you very kindly, sir. I'm off to do just that." Having worked for a wise, generous king since he was a teenager, the driver could hardly fathom what life in Sylstran was like.

The children helped carry their luggage to their rooms, chattering excitedly about their adventures and especially about "Eating food at home again! No one cooks like Chef Lourve."

"Come on, Brieanna," Emma said. "The food at Grandmother's was good."

"Yeah, but it wasn't like Chef Lourve's."

"Yes, it was."

"Girls," their mother interrupted. "Please. It's too early for this. Get changed and washed up, and we'll all have breakfast together, okay? And if you don't stop arguing, I'll have Annabella cook it."

This set off a round of giggles, as everyone knew Annabella's talents did not lie in the kitchen. Annabella stuck her tongue out at her sisters, and went into her own room.

The first thing she did was pull off her wrinkled, travel-worn dress and put on a clean one. She really wanted a bath, but that would have to wait. Annabella went to her vanity to brush her long blonde hair before going to breakfast. On her way to the door, she passed by her desk, and finally saw what was on it. While they had been away, the servants had placed her mail on the desktop.

"Oh, no." A pit formed in her stomach as she rushed over and began sorting through it. She was young, but not a deaf fool. Luke may have been out of the country, but she hadn't. A horrible feeling washed over her as endless hours of socials and teas of the past few months came flooding to the forefront of her mind. Catalina must be worried sick.

Annabella threw all the letters into an old stationary box and raced down the hall looking for her brother. She found him carring in the last of their luggage.

"Luke! You have to read these," she panted.

"Why? What's going on?" Luke asked. He knew who the letters were from, but Annabella was going on like it was a matter of life and death.

Annabella relayed to him all of the rumors that had been floating around lately about Lady Veronica. "You have to read these right away. Cattlina must have heard the rumors too."

"But I told Catalina we were leaving," Luke said. "I told her I could write for awhile. These are probably ones she wrote anyway to pass the time. And I would love to drop everything and ready them, but we've got work to do."

"No! Lukie," Annabella pleaded. "I have a really bad feeling about this. Women's intuition, I guess. Please just read through them? If I'm wrong, well, I'll make it up to you somehow."

Luke took the box. "Women's intuition, huh? Well, everyone knows you can't mess with that."

"Oh, good! I'll tell Mama you're busy."

Luke went to his room, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach. He took off his shoes and sat on a floor cushion in the corner (on permanent loan from the library). He regarded the stack of nearly fifteen letters in awe a moment - did they really write each other that often? - before arranging them chronologically according to the postmarks and diving in.

The first couple Catalina had sent read just like all the others, although he did notice she left a few without sketches. About halfway through, Luke began to detect a tone of melancholy underneath the cheery written word. The letters got shorter and shorter, and Catalina expressed concerns repeatedly about his lack of correspondence. Her tone was more depressed and anxious than ever; Luke could tell something else was going on other than the fact that he didn't write back. By the time he reached the last one, he was terrified for Catalina's sake.

_Dear Luke,_

_I don't know if you're reading these anymore or not, but I do hope you'll at least read this one. I've imagined every kind of scenario on the spectrum these past weeks, from your death to the possibility that I've been in a coma and halluncinating for the past year. Either way, I've realized that I acted foolishly in believing our relationship could be anything more than friendship._

_I cannot offer you anything. I have no family whatsoever, no possessions to my name. I cannot even say for sure if I will ever stop dancing. But I have no lands or connections, or anything stable except for the fact that I will be giving your sisters dance lessons every summer until they or your parents say otherwise. You would be better off with pretty much anyone else; I have no social standing. If you ever at all felt any sort of obligation towards me, I release you from it. I can see now how naively I acted, and I apologize._

_Perhaps I have overreacted, but either way, it is still the truth._

"No, no, no, no, no," Luke whispered. He had long since gotten up from the floor to pace, but now he froze.

_I do wish to thank you, though, for a wonderful experience, one I once thought I might go my whole life without. You made my summer extend throughout the entire year, and I cannot thank you enough for it. I will always cherish the time you spent writing to me, and will store every moment we spent together in my heart. Whatever your feelings towards me, you are very dear and important to me, and always will be. It is because of this that I cannot let you waste your life away because of me._

_I hope you will always think of me kindly in the future, whatever it may bring, and I wish you all the happiness in the world - _

_Ever yours,_

_Catalina_

Luke's legs felt weak. He sank back down to the floor, strewn with letters. He was icy cold all over.

It wasn't that Catalina's words stung, though they did. That pain diminished when Luke realized Catalina had heard whispers of his supposed marriage, believed them, and then believed every single word she had written. Luke had never wanted so badly to hold her in his arms as he did in that very moment.

Then he realized why it hurt so much.

"I love her."

Saying the words out loud suddenly made it all so real, so concrete. It tied together all his jumbled emotions of the past year, and even some from before then. Luke remembered when he first saw Catalina, really saw her, in the months before he went to war. There had been something about the way she held herself, the way she spoke, that made his heart race. It had plagued him late at night while trying to sleep in his army tent, and returned every time he laid eyes on her after that. And all this year, while trying to gather the courage to talk or write, or going crazy waiting for a letter back - it all made perfect sense. Luke was in love.

It was such a relief to know it, too! Suddenly charged with energy, Luke bounded all over the room, deciding what to do. According to the postmark, Catalina's last heartbreaking letter had been written two weeks ago. Luke threw open the top drawer of his desk and withdrew the schedule she'd sent all those months ago. She was at the Raspierre estate, and would leave in a few days for the palace.

As much as Luke wanted to jump on a horse and see her in person, he knew it wasn't possible. It was a long trip, and by the time he arrived, the Twelve Swans could be leaving or already gone. And explaining his hasty, emotional presence to Rictadore could be dangerous; there was something about him Catalina was not telling. Unfortuantely, a letter was the best he could do.

Luke's hand shook as he gripped the pen, but the words he wrote had never come more naturally or felt more right in his entire life.

_Dearest Catalina,_

_I cannot even begin to imagine the pain you are in right now, all because of my foolish, stupid actions. I haven't written in so long because I couldn't,and I'll explain all that soon, but first I have a confession._

_I love you._

_I feel like I must have forever,and I don't know why it took me so long to realize it. But it didn't hit me until I read the last letter you wrote, and contemplated the idea of life without you in it. I love your laugh, your smile, the way you look down when you're feeling shy. I love your handwriting, the way the ends of your y's and g's flick upwards, and I love the detailed way you shade your sketches._

_The very thought of you thinking you weren't good enough for me was heartbreaking. If anything, I am not good enough fo r you. You have worked your entire life; everything I have was handed to me. If I had half your work ethic I could be and do great things with half the countries of the world. People have wronged you, and yet you always have such grace and poise and compassion. If I get cheated at anything I cannot speak to that person for days. Whatever things you think you lack - irrelevant. Land and connections and possessions do not make a relationship or a marriage meaningful and true. Love does. I don't need you to have an important family line of blue blood that goes back hundreds of generations or powerful connections in foreign countries. In fact, I don't want you to have them. I just want you to be you._

_How I wish I could just hold you!_

_I put you through so much pain and suffering because of a diplomatic mission of sorts. My father and I went to Sylstran to discuss the reconstruction of the country. No one was supposed to know of it, so much so that many weren't even told we left home. My father requested that I refrain from writing during this period - he did not want the Sylstrans to feel their privacy violated because of a flow of post. I did write to tell you, but I guess that particular letter got lost._

_I cannot possibly apologize enough. I don't think you overreacted either. If you suddenly stopped writing me at the same time rumors started flying about your wedding, I wouldn't have patiently written letters. I would have grabbed the nearest sword and gone to find the man who was going to take you away! See there, you're much better than I am for not attacking anyone._

_Please, please, please change the way you see yourself. You are such an amazing, beautiful person. I am lucky to know you, let alone be priviledged enough to love you. And I will spend however long it takes proving it to you._

_Love Forever,_

_Luke _

It felt incredible to get the words on the page. Luke longed to say them directly to Catalina, but that was impossible. Instead, he summoned a messenger and told him to take the fastest horse and deliver the letter as soon as possible, but discreetly. After all the trouble he'd caused, Luke did not want Rictadore to catch on to their correspondence.

Luke managed to slip into breakfast without anyone asking questions, although he had no idea what Annabella had told their parents.

"Annabella! Annabella, I can't thank your woman's intuition enough." Luke said to her once they were alone. He explained the situation.

"Luke, that's really not good. What are the odds that the one letter explaining everything is the only one out of the entire year to get lost?"

Luke didn't know. He was really hoping it was just a horrible, horrible coincdence. "All I know is that I would have waited to read them, and could have delayed a reply if I had."

"So...do you want to make it up to me?"

The innocent, bright smile on her face wasn't fooling him. Luke sighed and gave in, agreeing to do her chores for today. The work was a welcome distraction, forcing his mind to think of anything but Catalina. He tossed and turned all night long for worrying about her.

Fortunately, the messenger Luke had sent was not one of the younger boys, but one with significant experience. He had heard all of the rumors floating about the palace for the past year, and more importantly, understood the privacy the prince and his mysterious lady desired. Of course, the palace staff knew she was the pretty dancer, which made it even more tempting to read the letter, but the messenger resisted. He also knew the situation was unusual, as of course gossip flew in the servant circles about Rictadore. So when the messenger arrived in the town where the Raspierre estate was, he slipped a note into the envelope without breaking the seal saying he was willing to bring a letter back, along with the name of the inn where he was staying the night. When the Raspierre's butler answered the door, he instructed the man to deliver the letter personally into Miss Torrez's hands at once.

He did not have to wait long. The letter was at the estate at tea-time, and after dinner a response was waiting for him in his room.

Two days before the Twelve Swans were due at the palace, the messenger returned. Luke thanked him heartily for his speed and rushed to his room.

Luke tore through the seal, his nerves on edge. This letter was very thin compared to all the others. A huge grin spread across his face, though, when he saw it.

Catalina had not written a letter. Instead, she had drawn only a sketch, by far the best he'd received. It depicted a scene in the swan ballet right after the prince promises the swan maiden that he will break the spell at the ball. Right after he leaves, the princess has a brief solo before transforming back into a swan. It involves a high leap, soaring on the swell of the orchestra, showing the world just how happy and in love she is. The lines of the sketch were perfect; the poise and grace Luke always associated with the dancer were present, as well as a smile of absolute joy on her face. And Catalina had included splashes of color, too, on the costume and her silver hair combs, which turned out to be carefully placed dabs of makeup.

A short note accompanied the drawing. Luke laughed when he saw how badly Catalina's hand had been shaking, thinking of his own unsteady hand.

_I feel no words can express the jumble of thoughts in my head as clearly as this does - I cannot wait to see you! It seems I have finally finished your commission after all. _

_Love,_

_Catalina_

Luke had forgotten all about his request for a drawing of her. Now that he had one, though, he wasn't about to hide it away in his desk with all the others. Instead, he placed it in a frame, not caring who saw it. She loved him. She would be here soon. Life couldn't get any more perfect.

And then it did, because Catalina arrived.

Luke hadn't been able to sleep the night before, and so was up bright and early when the Twelve Swans arrived. His first glimpse of her was very much like his last - Catalina was in the drive, organizing the movement of their possessions. Luke hung back for a moment, drinking in the sight of her.

Catalina was even more beautiful than he remembered. Her hair had grown considerably, so that the ringleted, nearly-black ends brushed her waist. A flash of early morning sunlight redirected his attention to the straighter half near the top of her head; she had pulled back a lock of hair with one of the silver combs. Catalina moved her head, and Luke saw her sparkling blue eyes, turned nearly violet by the dark blue dress she wore, and her full, red lips, pulled back in a smile as she spoke with one of the footmen.

For all her beauty, Luke also noticed the other changes in Catalina, ones he didn't necessarily like. The fabric at the waist of her dress bunched, when he knew the dress fit her perfectly last summer. Her cheeks were hollow, and her eyes had dark circles beneath them. Luke bunched his fists at his sides, resisting the urge to sock Rictadore in the nose as the maestro brushed past all the work and strode confidently into the palace.

Ivy stepped aside and pulled Elizabeth with her. "Look there," she whispered, gesturing discreetly with her head.

Elizabeth saw Luke standing there, a dreamy expression on his face. She bit back a giggle, making eye contact with other dancers as Ivy went to Catalina.

"We can take care of all this, Cat," she said casually. "Why don't you go inside?"

"No, I won't leave you all the work," Catalina answered. "Besides, none of you are allowed near that one trunk,you know that."

"You might want to look behind you before you make a decision."

Catalina turned, and met Luke's eye. She blushed furiously while everyone else laughed out loud. Luke began walking towards them.

"Oh, dear," Catalina murmured, hardly able to breathe. She hadn't known what to expect when they arrived, but this certainly wasn't anything that she had even thought of.

"Go on," Ivy urged. "We've got this, don't worry."

Luke appeared at her side. "Catalina."

She really couldn't breathe when he said her name like that.

"Oh, Luke, it's lovely to see you." Her voice was such an embarrassing squeak!

He smiled at her. The other girls were pretending not to eavesdrop but fooling no one. "Ladies, I'm glad to see you've got a good handle on business here, as I am stealing your leader away."

"Go on, go on," Elizabeth shooed them.

"See if you can't get her to relax, she's wound as tight as a spring!" Jessica added.

Luke tucked Catalina's hand into his arm and lead her across the lawns. They didn't need words; Catalina knew he was taking her to the gardens.

He paused once they got there, and looked as if he was about to speak, but she didn't let him. Catalina threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. Luke wrapped his arms around her tiny waist and sighed contentedly into her hair, absorbing her vanilla scent with his whole being. She fit perfectly in his arms like a joining puzzle piece - she felt so right there, and he had waited so long. The one thing ruining the moment was the sharp poke of her hips against his arms.

"I missed you," she murmured.

Luke didn't speak, just cupped Catalina's face in both hands and kissed her. Her lips were just as sweet as he remembered.

Catalina felt like she was soaring, on her highest jete ever. Her heart raced, and a warmth raced through her. Even after Luke pulled away, she kept her eyes shut, letting the moment linger in her memory.

When she blinked them open, Luke was smiling down at her. "Listen, I'm so, so sorry that all this happened to you, it shouldn't have happened, and it wasn't fair -"

Catalina stopped him by boldly rising up on her tiptoes and kissing him again.

"Would you please stop apologizing?" she said. "It was an accident, a lost letter, nothing more. You can't help what your father needs you to do."

"All right, all right," Luke gave in. "I'll stop."

He wound their fingers together and they strolled through the gardens, catching up. Even talking about things they had already written about seemed different, more intimate. Catalina didn't know how long they spent there, but she didn't care what Rictadore thought.

"Lukie, lad!"

It was Andrew, coming out of a side door. "Lad, ye be late for a meeting."

"Oh, no - I completely forgot!" Luke said, turning from Andrew to Catalina.

Andrew gave a sly smile. "I can see why. This be ye lass, then?"

"Yes. Catalina, this is my friend Andrew, Andrew, Catalina."

Catalina extended her hand, "It's nice to meet you, Andrew."

Instead of shaking her hand, Andrew bowed and kissed it. "It be good to finally meet th' lass tha' makes ol' Lukie here so nervous."

Catalina said, "You had better go. I probably should be getting back, too."

Luke groaned. "All right, but only because you said so." He squeezed her hand, and they all went back inside.

Of course, all the girls wanted details when Catalina made it back to their rooms, but she stood firm and refused to give anything up. Even if they were as close as sisters, there were some things she felt she had a right to keep to herself. As the day drew to a close, Catalina marveled at how happy she was, for all her worries of the morning. Even dancing all night couldn't erase the smile from her face.

**A/N: A nice lovely ending for Valentine's Day! I wanted to let you all know that the End of the Story draws nigh. I'll try to post a lot more often than I have been, too.**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: This chapter is a shout-out present to Yoffi! So sorry it's late!**

Their first two days at the palace were absolute bliss. During the morning, Catalina gave the princesses their dancing lesson, which she had always loved doing, and the afternoon was spent with Luke. Catalina could care less about what they actually did together. Even sitting beside him in silence was perfect.

"So...what do you think?" Luke asked her. They were sitting in the grass at the top of the slope of the lawns.

Catalina thought a moment, then said, "I'm afraid I can't deny it. It would seem Romeau likes Annabella."

Luke groaned and threw himself down on the ground.

"What's so bad about that?" Catalina braced herself on one hand to lean back towards him.

"Because she's my sister, I've got an intimidating job when it comes to suitors, and I'd rather not play that role on one of my best friends."

"You said it yourself," she said, "they spend time together, make eyes at each other across the room - you could be describing us." She nudged his shoulder playfully.

Luke grinned as he propped himself up on his elbows. "True. But we're older."

"Ivy and Eric were about their age when they met."

"You're supposed to be on my side."

"Since when? Besides, shouldn't your father really be the intimidating one?"

"Yes, but big brothers are also incredibly protective of their sisters." Luke sat up suddenly, his voice softening, "Hey, you're not afraid of my parents, are you?"

Catalina stared at her skirts. "I - I honestly haven't thought about them."

Luke took both of her hands and said, "You don't have to be. They like you, and they probably figured us out, anyway. And if they put up a fight, well, it will be my problem, not yours."

She gave him a half-smile. "I was actually more concerned about Rictadore. In my entire life, I have never seen him persuaded or convinced of anything he didn't want already. I have no idea where to even begin with him."

Luke kissed her hands. "We'll figure something out. I promise."

Catalina squeezed his hands. "Let's talk about something else. I personally think Romeau and Annabella are an adorable couple."

"Not that!"

Their afternoon visit was unfortunatley cut short, as the Twelve Swans had their first performance tonight. Rictadore was his usual dry, unemotional yet stern self during rehearsal. He had assigned excerpts from _Giselle_, the swan ballet, and some of their other pieces from the year, a hightlight of sorts from their travels. Needless to say, everyone was sick and tired of the same old dances.

"If I have to be a Wilis one more time," Jessica grumbled, "I might actually kill someone."

"If I have to be a swan again, I'm with you," Violet agreed.

"Don't worry, girls," Julia said, trying to be cheerful. "You know things always change at the palace."

"Yes - to more of the old, princess-style ballets," Isabelle shot back.

"They're so difficult with only eleven," Clara complained.

Luckily, Catalina did not have to try and break it up because the lights dimmed for the first dance. While she danced, Catalina tried to make eye contact with Luke whenever possible; he and his sisters were the only people she cared to impress. Luke found her afterwards, and that meant Catalina was spared from being shown off like a prizewinning horse by Rictadore. And that night at the pavillion, she pretended Luke was watching, and found herself with more energy than she'd had in a long time.

The next day, however, Catalina was doing her very best to ignore Luke when he slipped into his sisters' dance lesson. She found his presence entirely too distracting when she wanted to give her full attention to her students.

"Like this, Miss Cat?" Lila asked.

Catalina snapped out of her daydreams. "Oh - not quite, Your Highness. You should be able to balance perfectly. Move your heels...there, that's it."

When the lesson concluded, Luke pushed off the wall he'd been leaning against and took Catalina's hand. "You're good with them, you know."

"They are very sweet girls."

"For you, maybe," he grumbled. Emma shot him a brilliant, innocent smile.

"Anyway, I wanted to invite you, Catalina," Luke continued, "to luncheon with my family today."

Catalina smiled. "I would be honored."

"Yay!" Lila cheered.

"Are Mama and Papa coming today, too?" Brieanna asked.

"They said they would," Luke answered. "I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all," Catalina said, trying to hide a sudden bout of nerves.

"Don't worry, Mama and Papa are very nice," Emma said.

"They'll like you," Annabella added.

_Let's hope so,_ Catalina thought.

Luke knocked on her door precisely at one o'clock. Catalina had dressed in one of her best day dresses, a pale rose pink color, and pulled up her hair. She also wore her necklace outside her bodice rather than hidden away as usual.

"You look lovely," Luke said, kissing her hand.

"Is it all right?" Catalina asked nervously. "I don't want to be overdressed or anything."

He laughed. "It's fine, honest. Don't be nervous, it's just us."

"Too late, I already am. The king and queen make me nervous."

"This afternoon, they're just my parents. In fact, they're always my parents."

"That doesn't help at all."

Luke laughed again, tucking her arm in his. "No, I suppose it doesn't. Although, I will say this: I prefer your hair down."

Catalina put her hands on her hips and leveled him with a look. "I don't care right now. It took far too long to get it this way, and I'm not touching it now."

"All right! All right! Calm down. You're almost as pink as your dress."

Luke led her into the family's private wing, an area of the palace she had never been before. Catalina found it to be more personally furnished than the rest of the palace - less ornate and more like a home. She could only suppose it was the queen's doing, and found it very conforting and welcoming.

The luncheon was set out on an outdoor veranda in the warm sunshine. The princesses were already there, and they immediately jumped up to greet the couple. Catalina was relieved to see the girls were dressed in a similar fashion as her. It had been impossible to gauge her outfit off of Luke, as he wore the same vest and shirt from this morning (although he had tamed a few flyaway curls).

"Miss Cat, come and see my flower garden," Lila said, dragging her across the patio. "I planted everything myself."

Catalina bent down and admired each of the little girl's carefully tended blooms, claiming them to be prettier than the blossoms in the palace gardens.

"And look - I drew a picture of it." Lila handed her a pencil drawing.

"Why, this is very good, too."

"Luke says you are an artist," Brieanna jumped in. "Can you show me? Mama and Papa are late anyway."

They were difficult to refuse. Catalina took the proffered paper and pencil and showed Brieanna how to sketch a lily with scaling and shading to add depth. As she got lost in the art, she felt her nerves fading, and briefly wondered if it was a clever ploy.

"Mama! Papa! You made it," Lila shouted.

The king and queen stepped onto the veranda. Catalina scrambled to her feet, embarrassed at being caught so close to Brieanna and completely unsure on how to act around the king and queen. Luke had said they were just his parents, but she had never been introduced to someone's parents before, royalty or not.

Luke came to her rescue. "Mother, Father, I would like you to meet Catalina Torrez."

Catalina curtsied, her legs trembling.

Queen Victoria smiled at her. "My dear, it is wonderful to finally meet you outside of a ballroom! My girls are always singing your praises."

"Perhaps not just the girls," King William muttered. The tips of Luke's ears went red as Lila and Brieanna laughed at him.

"We're going to be very informal, I promise," the queen continued. "Sorry to be so late, children, we had a few issues with the duke and duchess of Branes."

Annabella shrugged, showing she didn't catch her mother's meaning, but Catalina smiled. She knew the duchess of Branes perhaps a little too well. The duchess was one of their more difficult to please but surprisingly regular patrons.

"Bre, did you draw that all by yourself?" King William asked.

"No, Papa, Miss Cat helped."

"I am quite impressed with the both of you." Catalina's face grew hot, and it was all she could do to incline her head in thanks.

Catalina was quickly claimed by both Brieanna and Lila as they sat around the table. Luke held her chair, then sat across from her. Catalina was more than happy with the arrangement, as the excited chatter of the little girls kept her well-occupied, and every now and then she could peek up at Luke.

Luncheon consisted of lightly grilled chicken over a tossed green salad, fruit, warm rolls and flavored ice for dessert. In the many hungry nights she'd had this winter, Catalina had often thought of the delicious food served at the palace, but it was far better than she remembered.

"Miss Torrez," Queen Victoria said. Catalina looked up, her stomach fluttering. "Would you mind telling us a little about your life in the traveling arts? I believe it would be fascinating."

"Of course," Catalina answered. "It is fascinating. We meet all sorts of new people of different cultures and backgrounds. I especially love to visit the theatres. The people there have all trained differently and traveled, so they all bring something different and new to a production. And every theatre has its own superstition."

"Like what?" Emma asked excitedly.

"Well, there's always a ghost or two haunting a theatre, usually a crewman or actress who died there under suspicious circumstances. My favorite," Catalina leaned forward, "is the one about the man who lives under the theatre."

"Under it?" Annabella said. "How?"

"Now, it's only rumors," Catalina continued smoothly, "but they say he's built up a system of tunnels to get from the theatre to a large cavern just beneath the surface of the ground. There, he's built a mansion that sits on a lake of black water. He lives down there because he was once a great opera singer, but was in a horrible accident and is face became disfigured. But he couldn't bear to leave his beloved theatre. His tunnels take him anywhere in the theatre without anyone seeing, and late at night, if it's quiet enough, they say you can hear him playing the organ and singing deep underground."

"Ooooh," Emma breathed. "Spooky."

"But it's just a rumor," Luke said. "Isn't it?"

"Have you ever heard him, Miss Cat?" Lila asked.

Catalina nodded.

"Tell us! Tell us!" Brieanna begged. "This is better than any campfire story."

"It was very, very quiet," Catalina admitted, "but I think it was from the very last opera the theatre ever performed, nearly fifty years ago."

"So he's a ghost?" Annabella asked.

"Or a vampire," Luke suggested. Catalina could only shrug, admitting she had told them all she knew.

The king asked about the different cities she had been to, and the conversation moved on from there.

"It sounds like you've led a very interesting life," King William said. "Not many of any age can claim that."

"How long have you been a part of the dance troupe?" his wife asked.

Catalina answered, "Since I was four years old. But our troupe has only been travelling extensively for about twelve years."

"My goodness! That doesn't sound easy."

"It's the only life I've known. The other dancers are my sisters more than anything else. And it has been difficult. I've never been able to make friends with anyone outside of the dance world."

There was a bit of silence. Catalina immediately felt horrible for ruining the happy atmosphere. Fortunately Lila was still young enough to be able to find something happy and interesting to talk about in less than a minute, and the conversation was quickly moving again. Someone nudged Catalina's foot under the table; she looked up, caught Luke's eye, and returned his smile.

Afterwards Brieanna, Emma and Lila insisted she play a game with them that involved throwing a rubber ball across the lawns and racing to a certain spot before the other person caught the ball. It was a little confusing at first - Catalina never knew if she should run or go after the ball - so they convinced Annabella and Luke to play, too. Once she caught the hang of it, the game proved to be exhilerating fun.

"I don't care if this is a child's game," she giggled to Luke. "It's great fun."

"Here's a bit of news for you," he replied, "children's games will always and forever to be great fun, no matter how old you are."

"Oh really? Then how come we had to drag you out here?"

"Watch out!" Emma shrieked as she raced by.

A few minutes later, King William called them back to the veranda.

"Race you!" Emma shouted to the group at large, and it was on. They were a giggling group that finally arrived at the king's side.

"There is a message for our guest," he said. "It seems your poor dancers are lost without you. They need you in the studio."

"Oh," Catalina said. "I guess I have to go."

"Awwww," Lila groaned. "But we were having fun."

"I know. I'm sorry. Thank you for having me though. I had lots of fun."

"Thank you for coming, dear," Queen Victoria said.

Luke walked her back to the studio. "Did you really have fun?"

"Of course!" Catalina said. "You already know I love your sisters."

"And my parents didn't scare you too badly?"

She blushed. "No. They were just like normal people, like you said. I'm sorry I was so nervous."

He smiled in a way that made her heart race. "It's okay. It's normal." He kissed her cheek and watched as she slipped inside the studio.

Catalina turned with dreamy smile on her face, expecting an issue along the lines of a ripped pointe shoe, which was minor at this point.

What she got was a frantic Clara crying, "Rictadore's missing!"


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Sorry I've been so long in between posts! This past weekend was my college music auditions, so writing was put on the back burner for awhile. The good news is that I was accepted! So I've got a little more time in my schedule for this story.**

"Missing?" Catalina repeated. "That's impossible. Have you checked his office?"

"Yes," Clara said confidently.

"All the way in the back room? You know he sometimes ignores the door."

"Yes. Jessica walked the entire room."

"Did you go across the lake?" There was no need to clarify which lake.

"Yes. We all went. He's not there."

Catalina started to ask about the greenhouse, but stopped herself. None of the others knew about that.

"Cat, what are we going to do?" Clara moaned, sounding desperate. "We're performing tonight!"

Catalina took her by the shoulders and had her take a deep breath. "Firstly, we are not going to panic. You are going to get the others to rehearsal. Start warm ups. I will join you very soon. There is one other place he could be."

"All right. All right." Clara paced in a nervous circle for a second, thinking, before giving Catalina a weak smile and rushing off.

Catalina raced through the palace halls to her room, using the back stairs in order to avoid Luke and his sisters. It felt like sneaking around behind his back, but she couldn't afford running into him; she didn't have time to come up with a good lie. She double-checked that Rictadore's study was empty, and then that she was alone before stepping into the tapestry.

Catalina had never made the journey to the greenhouse alone, and she certainly didn't want to make a habit of it. Without Rictadore leading the way, the shadows were less likely to behave themselves. They bared their fangs, snarling and growling. Catalina practically ran the entire way, avoiding eye contact with the tiny flashes that they viewed the world with.

The greenhouse was even worse. The strange, half-finished contraptions looked as if they would spring to life at any moment.

"Maestro?"she called, wandering to the back corner by the telescope. Catalina didn't know what she was going to say or do if she found him here, but she didn't have to worry. Rictadore wasn't anywhere in the greenhouse.

The girls were frantic by the time Catalina got back to the studio. "Where's the maestro?"

"What should we do?"

"Girls, girls!" Catalina silenced them. "I have no idea where the maestro is. I've looked everywhere."

"Oh, no! What are we going to do for the performance?" Ivy cried.

"We'll make our own repertoire tonight," Catalina said calmly, as if it were the most logical conclusion in the world. Inside, however, she was quaking. They had never created their own show; Rictadore had never simply disappeared before. What if he suddenly reappeared during the show and didn't approve?

Catalina decided right then and there that she no longer cared what Rictadore thought. She couldn't go on like this. People weren't supposed to live like this.

"What are the dances you want to do?"

The girls looked at each other. They were at a loss; never before had their opinion mattered. Violet cautiously piped up, "How about the cat dance?"

"And the childhood dances!" Lily said, smiling.

"Ooh, the Orientals! Let's do the Orientals!" Tiana added excitedly.

"The excerpts of the Christmas show, with all the dancing sweets!" Julia cried.

The floodgates were opened. Catalina had more problems narrowing the list down to a mere two-and-half-hours, and then working on a sort of flow. The excitement level in the studio during rehearsals had never been so high before. The girls scurried all over the palace, gathering different costumes, props, and shoes and makeup.

There was a quiet hush in the ballroom as the various members of court saw several pairs of bare feet running around beneath the curtain. Luke sat near the back, as he was avoiding the flying rumors about him and the duchess of Kanesbury, which he still had no idea how to combat. Except maybe to announce his engagement formally, and present his future bride for all to see. Now there was an idea he rather enjoyed thinking about.

The whispering increased as they saw a pair of hands slip out from stage left. No face appeared, and Luke didn't know the girls well enough to try and guess who it was, except that it wasn't Catalina. The hands carried a large wooden box, about the size of a hatbox, with strange symbols carved into its surface. The lid was lifted, revealing a crimson velvet lining. As far as the audience could tell, there was nothing inside, and the girl setting it up did not reach in, instead disappearing backstage. After a few beats of silence, very faint strains of music could be heard coming from the box. The curtain was swiftly swept aside, and the performance began.

The stage was strangely deserted. Normally the dancers were posed, or strode onstage the moment the music began. Instead the confused audience listened to several measures of the music, which in itself was unusual. It was wavery and sounded like violins, but with a different quality, and the drums were higher pitched than the usual orchestra's.

The music rose, and the dancers appeared onstage. They were dressed differently as well: the wore form-fitting black suits that left their arms bare and their knees exposed, although the collars came up to their necks, which was more than Luke could say for some of the woman gossiping behind their fans. The girls walked out in two groups from either side of the stage, their faces stoic and their steps completely in sync. Their feet were completely bare, with no stockings or dance shoes. Luke saw the spiraling scars on Catalina's leg, slightly pinker than he remembered them, spiderwebbing on the top of her foot and blossoming on her knee like a rose in full bloom. He wondered again what on earth could have caused them. Luke watched her eyes stray out into the crowd briefly, and saw her throat move as she swallowed. He wanted to force everyone to look away in that instant.

A throbbing drumbeat sounded, followed by sudden movement. The dancers moved in perfect unison, with each other and with the music. In the strict beats, they stretched their arms straight out from their shoulders, and pivoted sharply, showing the oval-shaped cutouts in the upper backs of their leotards. The tempo quickened and so did they, and as more instruments came in to join the drums, Luke recognized the music as that of the cultures in the far east. He looked at the dance, and saw the calculated movements of the traditional warriors of that same culture, in their sharp, perfect movements that were both abrupt and fluid at the same time. He understood the dance: they were foreign soldiers at war.

The movements of the music progressed, and the story changed accordingly. They went from combat to moments of defeat, to death, to victory, to full-out war again. The music at the end was fast and intense, and unyielding to the very end, where the dancers collapsed on their sides on the floor as the stage plunged into darkness.

There was silence. In the near-pitch dark, Luke could just make out the forms of the girls, still on the floor, rising and falling rapidly. He didn't quite know what to think. This dance was unlike the pretty, classical ballets that he was used to them performing. In fact, he was unfamiliar with any dance troupe performing in this way. But at the same time, he welcomed it. It was a refreshing, enlightening change, especially since he saw the Twelve Swans every year.

It wasn't even Luke who started the applause, as he was still awestruck when it did. It was the queen, of all people. She had removed her gloves to amplify the sound, and the other nobles knew it was impossible not to applaud along with her, even if they thought the dance to be scandalous. After a few moments, the girls rose, and the lights came up. They bowed from the waist, rather than curtseying, their faces still stoic, befores striding away.

The next dance was a ballet, but not in the traditional sense. The girls did not wear their ragged point shoes, but rather the normal soft leather ballet shoes like the ones the younger princesses wore. Their leotards were an unadorned white, with capped sleeves and scooped necklines, and gauzy skirts that floated just above their knees. Their stockings were such a pale pink it was nearly impossible to tell that they weren't white.

This dance began with just Elle onstage, dipping and sweeping delicately alongside slow, almost mournful strings. She hopped and skipped, acting very much like Lila, a young girl happy in whatever she did. She was joined by Ivy, and then Lily. The music deepened somehow, became fuller in its sound, and the dancers started going faster and performing more complicated moves. More girls came onstage as the dance moved on, each movement having its own atmosphere. By the time Catalina and Tiana came on, Luke had solved the puzzle of this dance as well: it was about growing up, going from girl to woman. The overall effect was soft and heartwrenching, the complete opposite of a warrior's dance. Luke thought he saw his mother tearing up and hugging Annabella and Emma to her sides.

The third and final dance was again different than any Luke had seen before. It was another ballet, this time in pointe shoes, ragged and unkempt as they were, which caused him to frown. Eight of the dancers wore white stockings and grey leotards and skirts, and headbands with rouned grey ears on them. Their makeup was light except for a dot of pink on their noses and three black lines on their cheeks. They hopped and pranced about on stage, twisting and turning so that strips of pink fabric swirled from the backs of their skirts. They were a group of little mice, scurrying back and forth in nervous, busy rodent fashion. Ivy and Jessica came out then, wearing a brighter pink than before, and basically began wrecking havoc on the little mouse community. They stole wedges of cheese, pulled tails, and twisted ears, invoking laughter from the thoroughly entertained guests.

Then with a screech of violins, Catalina appeared, dressed in all black, with a stiffer tutu, a long sleek tail and pointed ears. The little mice scattered as soon as they saw her, squeaking in fright. She was a lean, black cat, gliding from toe to toe, hunting mice. Luke laughed at the ideal casting.

The only mice brave enough to face her were Ivy and Jessica, teaming up to try and defeat the enemy. When they yanked on her tail, Catalina wheeled and clawed at their whiskers. When they tried for her ears, she bared her fangs and hissed. It was comical, and most of the audience abandoned their noble upbringing and laughed with abandon.

Ivy and Jessica decided to launch a joint attack. In one fluid movement, they both leaped to land on either side of Catalina. Ivy grabbed her tail and Jessica her right ear, and yanked hard together. The enraged Catalina pirouetted on her left foot while flailing her arms and kicking her other foot, thrown off balance. She slowed her rotations and hopped on that one foot, staggering with dizziness. After the first hop, Luke saw her knee wobble, and on the second her entire leg trembled violently. By the third, it gave out, and Catalina went crashing to the ground.

She landed hard on her forearms. Luke, sitting in the back row, leaped to his feet, and saw her head jerk backwards with the force of the fall. Her chest heaved as she tried to pull air into her crushed lungs. Ivy and Jessica pittered around her, convincingly playing the role of cautious mice, but Luke knew the fall wasn't scripted. Catalina quickly turned it around, never showing pain or looking flustered. She pulled herself up on her forearms and then flipped her legs over her head, performing a backwards role and landing on her toes, claws out and hissing. She was a cat that always landed on her feet. She looked at Luke, and gave the faintest hint of a smile around her bared fangs. Luke sat back down.

The rest of the dance passed in a blur. The more fearful mice came out again somehow, and the cat chased them all in a frenzy. It ended by Catalina pouncing on all of them and all of the mice somehow escaping at the hand of either Ivy or Jessica, until only the two pink mice were left onstage, congradulating each other on a job well done. The girls came out for their final bows, and Luke immediately saw how stiff Catalina was. She may be able to hide it from everyone else, but he knew her too well.

Before the lights in the ballroom even flared back to life, Luke was out the door and navigating the halls to work his way backstage. The small area was littered with the various costumes the girls had worn that night, but Luke didn't even see them. All he saw was Catalina, sitting on a closed trunk, with her head down between her knees, and all the other girls around her, speaking in hushed whispers.

"Oh! Your Highness," Clara squeaked when she saw him standing right behind her. All talking ceased and the girls jumped back to allow Luke to crouch beside Catalina, who had lifted her head just enough to see him.

"What happened? Are you all right?"

Even under her stage makeup, Luke could tell Catalina was pale. She smiled at him anyway. "I'm fine. My leg doesn't care for this dance, that's all. I'll be fine in a moment."

"Don't listen to a word she says," Elizabeth broke in. "She almost passed out back here. That's why we made her sit."

"And her ankle looks swollen," Jessica said, pointing at Catalina's left foot. "Her shoe ribbons were cutting into her." The pointe shoes lay off to the side, as well as the black stockings. Luke cradled her left ankle in both hands. The skin was hot to the touch, especially on the raised scar tissue. He didn't think this ankle was any larger than the other, but the scars were red and aggrevated, and there was bruising on the skin beneath, both newer purple and older yellow. She flinched when he brushed her leg with his fingertips.

"All right. You're coming with me," Luke said, sweeping her up in his arms. "I will send for the doctor."

"No, that's not - " Catalina mumbled, but the sudden change in position sent shooting pains up her leg, and she had to bite off her words to avoid crying out.

She rested her head tiredly in the hollow of Luke's chest as he carried her up to the dancers' rooms. He was hesitant to actually enter her bedroom - the very thought made him blush - so he set her gently down on a sofa in the sitting room.

"Do you want your leg raised up?" he asked, "what makes it feel best?"

Catalina only shook her head. At this point, it didn't matter what she did with it, her leg was going to hurt whether it was elevated or not.

Luke decided to place a big cushion beneath her foot, so that her leg was slightly raised, but her knee wasn't locked straight. Then he darted out into the hall, grabbed the attention of a passing maid and had her run for the doctor.

When he came back in, Catalina's head was down, and she was half-asleep. Remembering what Elizabeth had said, Luke sat beside her and raised her upright.

"Hey, you have to stay awake for me," he said gently.

"I'm awake," she murmured into his shirt. He smelled so good, and it was a calming scent.

"Sure you are. And I'm the king of Persia."

"You might be. How would I know?"

"Come on, 'lina," Luke begged, kissing her hair, "please tell me what's wrong. I know something is not right, and not just your leg. Something's been going on for a while, you can't deny it."

Catalina sighed deeply, still avoiding looking at him. "I can't tell you. I really can't. It will only make things worse. Trust me, if I could tell you, I would in a heartbeat."

He made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. Catalina raised her head and cupped his face in her hands. "Please believe me. I want to, so badly, but I have ten sisters to think about, too. And it's not as bad as it seems, I promise. We'll get through it."

"Oh, all right. I won't ask anymore. But that doesn't mean I'm not thinking about it, 'lina."

She smiled tiredly. " 'lina. Someone used to call me that, I think, a long time ago."

Before Luke could ask about that, there was a knock on the door. He jumped up to let the doctor in, and then sat back down beside her, but at a respectable distance.

The doctor was a wizened old man with a shock of white hair standing up at all angles that quivered as he moved his head about, peering nearsightedly at Catalina's leg. He asked her several questions about the injury in his crackling voice, and Catalina answered.

"It will have to be iced for half an hour," he instructed finally, "and limit your dancing for the rest of today. But as you say it does not cause you problems normally, I do believe it just a temporary stress. I have some powders you can take for the pain. Mix a spoonful up in some tea with plenty of honey, as they are bitter."

Luke went out to get some ice, suddenly full of nervous energy. The doctor ran a thumb along the line of new and old bruises on Catalina's calf. She sucked in a breath through her teeth.

"You are one of Lord Rictadore's dancers, are you not?" the doctor asked kindly.

Catalina only nodded, trying to ignore the tender shoots of pain flying up her leg and settling in her hip.

"This is an old injury that never healed," he continued. "But you know that."

Catalina nodded again.

"I knew Rictadore from before he became a dance instructor, so this does not surprise me. But I will tell you this: this leg will not survive another few years at the pace you are going. Your body needs time to heal."

"You said you know Rictodore," Catalina said quietly, terrified that the walls might have ears. "Do you really think that will sit well with him?"

The doctor sighed sadly. "No, I suppose not. I hope the rest of the dancers are not in the same condition as you."

"No. Just me."

"Hmph," he said grumpily. "Doesn't make it any better, you know." He handed her a folded paper packet of powders, and shuffled out. Luke came back in in almost the same moment, with a small bucket of ice pieces and thick towels. Unfortunately he caught her trying to stand up.

"What on earth are you doing?" Luke said, dropping his things and snatching her around the waist. "You're not going anywhere, missy."

"I'm not an invalid, Luke," Catalina groaned. "I can still walk."

"But you shouldn't," he answered smoothly, setting her back down on the sofa. "Stay still and let me take care of this before the ice melts."

In no time at all, her leg was wrapped in cooling ice, and Luke was putting way too much honey into a steaming cup of tea with the doctor's powders. Catalina sat twisting her hands in her lap, unsure of what to say or do. No one had ever waited on her before.

"Drink up, 'lina." Luke curled up his long legs on the sofa beside her, the teacup dwarfed by his large hands. "I'm not leaving until you do."

"Hmm," she mumbled into the cup, "that was probably not the best thing to say if you wanted me to drink it quickly."

He chuckled. "I guess not."

They sat and talked for almost an hour. Luke told her all about some of the new economic policies he and his father were writing up, as well as the ideas for a new educational system, as the old was significantly outdated. Catalina sat quietly and listened for a while, weighing some thoughts on her mind, before spilling.

"I saw Melanie again."

Luke sat up straighter and looked her square in the eye. "This same Melanie who suddenly disappeared last year? Who was cruel and nasty your entire lives?"

"Yes. The one and the same. I saw her right around the same time...the same time you stopped writing. After Christmas."

"I hope she had the most excellent of excuses for leaving you all so suddenly." There was a strange tone in Luke's voice; was he getting defensive?

"Well she does," Catalina continued. Either the powders were working or her leg was getting better, because she felt more comfortable pulling up her knees and turning to face him. "She found her sister and grandfather."

"What? But I thought you were all..."

"Orphans, yes, but Melanie always insisted that she was not. She always said she had family that was supposed to come and get her, but Rictadore came first. Of course none of us truly believed it, how could we? But it was true. She found them and then ran off to stay with her grandfather as soon as she could. I do not blame her, either, I would have done the same."

"Did you speak with her? Did she recognize you all?"

"Of course I went to speak with her! She explained everything to me. She also asked that I not say anything to anyone. She did not want to come back. So you mustn't tell anyone!"

"Don't worry, I won't," Luke touched her arm. "But how did she manage to escape Rictadore? I don't think just walking out would be very effective."

Catalina shook her head. "I looked into it, though. I found a newspaper article printed about the same time in the port city where her grandfather lives, and where we were. The description of the body was very similar to Melanie. I don't recall people talking about it very much, so I'm not sure how true it is, but either way it must have been enough to fool Rictadore. He doesn't like to get his hands dirty anyway."

"She faked her death," Luke shook his head. "I'll give this Melanie one thing, she's clever."

The clock chimed the half hour, causing them both to look up and notice just how late it was.

"I must be off, I'm afraid," Luke said. He took her hands and began stroking them with his thumbs, making no effort whatsoever to try and leave. "Are you feeling better?"

"No, I'm not. You're leaving."

"Am I?" Luke kissed her longingly. "Leaving?"

Catalina adored his kisses and the thrill that ran through her entire body like an electric shock when their lips met. Every time she saw him, she wondered what she had done to deserve him. Her leg forgotten, she moved closer and wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers playing with his long curls.

The clock chimed again. They broke apart, gasping and grinning.

"I really have to go."

"I know." He bumped his forehead against hers, unwilling to break the moment.

Catalina giggled. "What is it?"

"Don't move." She reached around him to the side table and came back with a handkerchief. Still giggling she said, "You've got my lipstick all over you."

She gently wiped it away, her hand lingering on his skin. He held her close a long moment, then forced himself to leave her side.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

"I'll be waiting."

Unfortunately this was not to be.


	17. Chapter 17

Luke's day began with an early-morning military review, just the way he always wanted to start the day. He left the palace just before dawn to ride nearly thirty miles north to the nearest military base, surrounded by stoic guards who didn't want to talk. His only conslation was the fact that Andrew, Connor and Romeau were waiting at the base. Luke tried to keep his mind focussed on his task during the hour-long ride, but his mind kept drifting back to Catalina. But instead of the sweeter thoughts about her that always occupied his mind, the image of her bruised, scarred leg kept reappearing. Catalina was painfully thin as it was, with dark circles under her huge blue eyes, and now this? And what was this secret that she couldn't tell anyone about for fear of the safety of the dancers? He couldn't even bring himself to think about what kind of danger those poor girls were in.

Romeau and Connor saw right away that something was troubling Luke, but unfortunately they couldn't get any time to talk for several hours. As crown prince, it was Luke's job to inspect the military base and then get locked in the general's office for meetings. They themselves had more than enough work to do for the war council, interviewing soldiers who were preparing for discharge and assigning housing and employment. Andrew, as a sergeant major, was training recruits across the camp.

"Time to talk," Connor said in a voice that brooked no argument. He grabbed one of Luke's shoulders, and Romeau got the other as Luke stepped out of the general's quarters at lunchtime.

"Were the two of you waiting for me?" he asked suspiciously.

"You there! Stop!" a gruff voice behind them bellowed. "Take your hands off His Majesty."

Several of the palace guard came out of nowhere and pulled Connor and Romeau away roughly.

"No, it's all right," Luke said quickly. "These are my friends. You may leave us."

Romeau swallowed nervously as the guard let go of him. At the palace, even before they became members of the war council, they had always been treated kindly by the staff. And Luke never acted like a prince; it was easy to forget. He thought of Annabella, and stared at his boots.

"Sorry about that," Luke muttered, purposely wrapping his arms around his friends' shoulders. "So. What are we so urgently discussing?"

"You," Connor answered.

"Yeah," Romeau added, recovering. "We're not letting you out of our sight until you spill."

"Spill what?"

"Whatever's bothering you. We could tell you were in a mood when you got here, and it hasn't improved the slightest."

Connor directed their steps to a smaller building set up between the main office and the soldiers' barracks. It was a little rundown, two-room shack, with two cots in one room and a tiny cooking stove and table in the other. "So this is where you've been staying the past few days," Luke said, delaying the inevitable. "Romeau, how can you sleep at night knowing Connor's faulty use of the stove could burn this place down?"

"Stop trying to change the subject," Connor scolded.

"And besides, what makes you think I cook?" Romeau asked.

"Sit."

Luke sat on a cot, and put his head in his hands. "It's Catalina."

"What's the matter with you?" Connor scoffed. Luke's head shot up in surprise. "That girl adores you, I've seen it in her eyes when you're not looking. Whatever signals you think you've read are completely wrong."

"It's true," Romeau chimed in. "If you want to ask her, you've got nothing to worry about."

"Wait - what?"

"Catalina. Pretty dancer, long curls, big blue eyes? Ring any bells?"

Luke glared. "I know that - it's not what you think. Everything between us is fine, except I think she's in trouble."

Connor and Romeau looked at each other. "Oh."

"I mean, you saw her," Luke continued, jumping up to pace. "She's exhausted and thin, which all the girls are. They didn't look so bad last summer. And her leg is all scarred and bruised. She's been hurt, but she can't tell me anything about it, I asked her. Poor 'lina's terrified."

Romeau scratched his jaw. "Any ideas on what it could be? I mean, as far as I know she's either dancing or with you."

"Yes. And it's not a what, it's a who."

Connor nodded. "The dance instructor, obviously. What's his name?"

"Rictadore."

"Do you know anything about him?"

"Not much. I know he used to be someone of social standing before he started the dance troupe. I've written to Eric Braeson, asking him to come to the palace as soon as possible. He's known the Twelve Swans for about five years, and can probably fill in some blanks."

Romeau said, "Why not just ask the dancers?"

Luke shook his head, "I don't think they can talk about it, whatever it is. Catalina seemed terrified for her life when I asked her for the barest details."

"Luke," Connor said, sounding very serious. "Are you absolutely sure you want to do this? It sounds as if Rictadore physically harms the girls at the very least, and the rest - are you sure you want to know the rest?"

"Yes," Luke answered firmly. "Trust me when I say my imagination has been running wild. I know very well what could be going on. But this isn't about me; it's about Catalina and the other girls, and saving them. I can deal with 'the rest' once I'm sure she's not living in fear and pain anymore."

There was a heavy silence. Luke's heart thudded heavily in his chest. He'd never spoken more honestly in his entire life. The idea that Catalina was living in a nightmare since she was a little girl, and that he couldn't do anything about it, was more destructive to him than the individual horrors.

"Okay," Connor said quietly. "Then we'll stand by you until the end."

"Absolutely," Romeau agreed. "Andrew, too, whom we should find."

"Why?"

"Because if this Rictadore really was someone so important twenty years ago, Andrew will probably know him."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

They had arrived on time, they had danced until the music stopped, and the shadows had let them cross the lake. They shouldn't be having this problem.

Catalina stood glaring at the old oak tree that served as their portal home. No matter how many times they stepped into the hollow, it did not glow and return them to their sitting room. Catalina had tried every trick she knew in regards to magic, until she had completely lost track of time, all to no avail.

"Maybe it's because Rictadore didn't dismiss us," Elizabeth suggested tiredly.

"The music started without him," Jessica countered, "and we even forgot to bring the music box back."

"Besides, we haven't seen Rictadore in days," Clara snapped. "There's no reason for worlds to fall apart just because he's disappeared."

The girls continued to bicker, but Catalina drowned them out. Ivy came close and touched her shoulder. "Cat? Are we going to be stuck here forever?"

Catalina watched her for a moment, seeing the nervous way the younger girl played with the chain around her neck. "No, we're not."

"How can you be so sure?"

Catalina's inner eye traveled back up to her bedroom at the palace. "Because our boys are clever. They'll find us, don't you worry."

**A/N: I know this one is short, but it's a little teaser before we get to the big end game in the next few chapters. The great reveal is coming!**


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: Shout out to silverliningineachcloud for being a faithful reader and reviewer from the very beginning, despite the fact that I'm an inconsistant poster! :) This one's for you.**

Luke arrived back at the palace later that afternoon to a flurry of activity. He stood in the grand hall with Andrew, Connor and Romeau spinning in circles as he tried to absorb what was going on. Servants ran this way and that, carrying what looked like enough supplies to host a fancy dinner party for an army.

"Luke! You're late!" Annabella shouted from across the noisy entryway. Romeau's jaw went slack at the sight of the eldest princess in a gorgeous pale green ballgown, with her blonde hair swept up elaborately and her makeup pristine. He did his best to hide his awed shock from Luke.

Because of all the traffic, a series of hand signals (developed over years of lessons with strict tutors) passed between brother and sister, in which they agreed on a meeting place. The room they chose was rarely used, so much so that there was hardly any furniture in it, forcing them all to stand in a circle near the doorway.

"What on earth is going on?" Luke asked immediately.

"The new king of Sylstran and his council of advisors are due any moment!" Annabella sounded flustered.

"What?" Andrew cried, "He's not supposed 'ta be comin', is 'e?"

"We weren't expecting him," Annabella said, "but we receieved word just this morning. Mama and I have been going crazy trying to prepare a proper welcome. And you were due home an hour ago!"

"I know, I know, I'm sorry," Luke said, trying to remain calm and keep his sister from hysterics. "What do you need us to do?"

"Get dressed." Annabella didn't hesitate for a second. "And if no one has arrived by then, try and find Catalina and ask if they will dance. The rest of you, can you meet Mama and I in the ballroom? we can use all the help we can get, and you are of course invited."

"We'd be honored," Connor answered. Romeau was still a bit tongue-tied.

"Thank you so much." Annabella turned to leave, then paused. "Do you have any idea why he would be coming?"

"No." Luke himself was trying to come up with a good answer. "When we went, he was very adamant that we keep our meetings secret."

"Yes," Connor agreed. "If he were to visit, he wouldn't request this type of fanfare."

They all jumped into the fray. Luke put on one of his best suits as quickly as possible, then ran some beeswax through his hair to try and tame it. He picked a silk cravat in a deep, pure shade of blue, selfishly thinking of Catalina's eyes.

He fiddled with the end of the cravat as he made his way to the dancers' rooms, taking the back stairs to avoid the rush of people. After checking his watch, he knocked briskly on the studio door.

There was no response.

Luke listened carefully for a moment. He didn't hear the swish of fabric, the dull thud of pointe shoes that normally sounded when the girls were dancing. He knocked again, and tentatively opened the door. The room was empty.

"That's odd," Luke muttered to himself. At this time of day, they were normally knee-deep in rehearsals, even if there was no show. Confused, he went down the hall to the door of their main rooms and knocked.

Again there was no response. No voices or footsteps could be heard to even indicate anyone was inside. Panic clawed at Luke's chest, but he refused to let it take over. It was unusual that the dancers were not in the studio, and they were very prompt when opening the door. Luke tested the doorknob, and it glided open.

It went against every etiquette lesson of his life, and Luke could feel an embarrassed blush rushing across his face already, but he went in.

The door opened to a deserted sitting room. Luke saw the large cushion still on the floor by the sofa and several chairs moved around, the way the room had been arranged the other night. Even the oil lamp was still burning low. Luke moved to blow it out before it set the room afire.

This suite of rooms was designed to accommodate large groups of people. The back wall was lined with four doors that led to different bedrooms.

"Is anyone here?" Luke called. No one answered. Even though there was a thick carpet beneath his shoes, his footsteps sounded incredibly loud to his ears. He stood still a moment, and strained his ears (he was not ready to go into a girl's bedroom), but could hear nothing.

"Luke!"

Luke turned, his heart jumping in his chest, but hope died before he saw who had called him. The voice was masculine.

Eric Braeson hovered in the doorway, dressed to the nines as Luke was. "Are they here?" he asked.

"Hello, my friend," Luke said, almost grateful for an excuse to leave the room. "No, they aren't here, or in the studio."

"I can't find the girls either," Eric exhaled and ran a hand through his hair. "And I've been looking since I got here at noon. No one in the staff has any ideas, except that they weren't at breakfast, and didn't answer to door to accept any trays."

"So no one has seen them since last night," Luke mused.

"What? What is going on here?"

"I don't know," Luke said darkly. "But whatever it is, we've got to put a stop to it. That's why I asked you to come. I thought you might know something."

They started to walk back through the halls, not really paying attention to where they were going. Eric shook his head. "I don't think I can be much help. According to Ivy, their lives were very routine and monotonous until -"

He was cut off by the very intimidating figure of Queen Victoria, striding purposefully towards them. The expression on her face reminded Luke of the time he'd been caught fencing in between ancient relics and family heirloom jewels as a boy - for the third time. He resisted the urge to stare at his shoes.

"Boys. Where have you been?" she asked. Luke again recognized the don't-you-lie-to-me tone of his childhood.

"Catalina's missing," he blurted. "All of the dancers are. No one has seen them since last night."

"Please, Your Majesty," Eric pleaded, "something is very wrong here, we've got to find them."

"I agree," Queen Victoria said. Her tone was slightly softer. "But there is more than one mystery at play here. There is no reason for Alfonse of Sylstran to be here."

Now Luke did look down at his shoes. He'd forgotten all about the King of Sylstran's improptu visit.

"Listen," the queen continued, "I understand your concern, and if I didn't have an event to hostess, I would drop everything to help you find the dancers. But I need you, I need as many ears as I can trust to be listening at dinner. Do you understand?"

The boys nodded, Eric nervously, Luke more confidently. Spying had been his specialty druing the war.

"But we can compromise. Can you stay through the main course?"

"Yes, Mother," Luke said. "Thank you." He extended an arm to escort her to the dining hall. Eric followed behind.

The new king of Sylstran, King Alfonse, sat at Luke's father's right hand in the place of honor. Luke delivered his mother to King William's left, bowed respectfully to both monarchs, and went to an empty seat beside Eric at the end of the table.

Before the first course was served, King William stood and addressed everyone, saying they were here tonight to honor KingAlfonse and his council, and all the progress they had made in the reconstruction of the country. Having attended formal dinners for years, Luke could easily tell that his father had no idea what was going on either, and perhaps hoped his speech would prompt Alfonse to give an explanation.

Unfortunately, no public one came, and Luke and Eric were forced to sit through four torturous courses. Luke was having difficulty pretending to eat, engage in conversation and eavesdrop on his neighbors, all while wracking his brain for a place where eleven young women could disappear to overnight.

"I must say, the staff here is exquisite," the man to the left and across the table from Luke said. He was a member of Alfonse's council; they had spread out over the table to better socialize with William's court. "We were told the servants here were lackluster, but obviously were misinformed."

The woman beside him said, "Why, whoever told you that? My King William is well known for the kindness and generosity he shows his servants, and they in turn repay him with excellent work."

"Milord Alfonse has a contact here who arranged our entire trip. I have never met him myself, but I'm told he lives in the palace when not travelling extensively. In fact, everything he said up until now was true. But of course, even this mysterious wise man could not predict the change in milord."

"Change? What kind of change, if I may ask?"

Luke's ears perked up, and he forced himself to pay attention. The councilman had perhaps drunk a bit too much wine, for he normally wouldn't have gossiped. "Well, the nerves, you see. We arranged this trip specifically to see the type of kingdom Allar is. Milord wished to see all the different classes and how they lived, and what they thought of their king, in order to try and reciprocate this at home. He wrote to King William, and his contact wrote back, and in short order the trip was planned, and we were off. However, about halfway through, milord went through a series of emotional troubles, I believe. He simply acted out of character; he cares extensively for his appearance now, and wishes everything to be just so. He snaps and hollers at almost everyone, when normally milord is a calm and patient man. But I do believe it is just the anxiety of speaking to a great ruler such as King William and the pressures of rebuilding a country. It's not easy, you know."

Luke glanced discreetly in Eric's direction, and the young lord nodded, just barely. He had heard as well. Perhaps when placed with other pieces of information from around the table, they may be able to cobble together an explanation.

The two stood and slipped out of the dining hall as the fifth course was served. Their shiny black shoes echoed loudly in the halls as they raced to the dancers' rooms. This time, Luke entered with a bit more confidence. He explained to Eric in greater detail than his short letter had provided about what had happened at the last performance, and how the room was still arranged from the doctor's visit.

"So these doors lead to their bedrooms?" Eric asked. "Just the girls', or is one of them Rictadore's?"

"The girls. Rictadore has his own set of rooms at the other end of the hall."

"So...we can peek in until we find Ivy's or Catalina's?"

"What? No!"

"There could be clues in there! Besides, Ivy is my fiancee. I ought to be able to search her bedroom if she's gone suddenly missing without a trace."

Luke groaned, weighting the pros and cons, the proprieties and inproprieties, until his desperation to find Catalina safe and sound won out. "All right."

That task turned out to be a bit harder than expected. The largest room had four beds in it, and the next two had three each, and the last and smallest, two. Eric identified some of Ivy's dresses flung out over one of three beds in a room, and Luke left him there. The rooms were in total disarray, with daydresses and dancing costumes, shoes and ribbons flung about. But rather than appearing like rooms occupied by girls were were naturally messy and disorganized, this looked like all eleven had been searching frantically for something and hadn't the time to be neat about it.

In the room with only two beds, Luke found another piece to the puzzle. One of the beds looked totally unoccupied, so he disregarded that half of the room, thinking it belonged to the missing twelfth swan. The other side had a floor covered with clothes, and Luke recognized one of the deep blue daydresses as the birthday dress that made Catalina's eyes seem near-purple. And the bed made him shout over his shoulder for Eric.

The bedspread was covered with papers and books of all kinds. Some of the papers were yellowed with age and covered with dense, black writing, while some were crisp, white and nearly blank. Some of the books were neatly bound with leather, and others were handmade with stiff plasterboard and string. Inside the handmade books, Luke found dozens upon dozens of sketches Catalina had made, depicting landscapes and scenery and dancing. From what he could tell of the dancers' ages, some of them were drawn almost ten years ago. Most of the scenery and landscapes showed a place both he and Eric were unfamiliar with: a thick forest, a dark lake, and a garden with a pavillion.

"What is all this?" Eric whispered.

"I have no idea," Luke answered. He picked up a relatively new calling card, and studied the name printed on it. "But I know it has to do with where the girls have gone. And Catalina even gave us the name of the only person who can help us bring them home."


	19. Chapter 19

"Luke, please, I need you to focus," his father said for the umpteenth time.

"Sorry, Father," Luke muttered automatically, and ran a hand through his hair, purposefully snagging several curls in order to bring himself back to the present. He reassured himself that he had done everything he possibly could, and that all he could do now was wait. There were more important matters to attend to right now, like the fact that they thought Sylstran was plotting against them.

King William looked at his son, whose eyes were bloodshot after several days and nights of reading over every single page Catalina had left on her bed. He wasy sympathetic, but the kingdom had to come first; there was perhaps no better time for Luke to learn that than right now.

"Tell me again exactly everything you heard."

"I don't remember which councilman it was," Luke recounted yet again. "I couldn't remember their names at all the meetings three months ago, let alone now. But he mentioned that King Alfonse wanted to take this trip to study the people of Allar. He wants to learn about those who live in a good kingdom. And then he was going to discuss it here with us. He said Alfonse wrote to us ahead of time, and all the correspondence was done through a man whose name and face no one knows. Yet all the information given by this man proved true, except for some minor details about the palace - like the disposition of our staff. The councilman also noted Alfonse's demeanor and attitude changed about halfway through the trip. He became easily irritated and worried about his appearance much more than usual."

"What on earth can that mean?" Connor said. "Other than the fact that he's got a mental problem. Something like that happened to my uncle, and in less than a year he died because of a brain disease."

"I don't think that is it," King William answered. "There would be other symptoms, yes?"

The door opened, and a footman slipped in and whispered in the king's ear as the council debated quietly. They had been batting around the problem for days, in between meetings with the Sylstrans, to no end. The king gestured for Luke to leave. Luke grabbed Eric's arm and they both walked out of the meeting room as quickly as was polite.

In the formal sitting room they met the only person who could help: the elusive twelfth dancer, Melanie. She was very well-dressed, with silk gloves on her hands and soft leather boots over her feet, and a lace parasol at the arm of her chair. She was pale, and refused to make eye contact with her family, who all sat nearby.

"Thank you all for coming so quickly,"Luke greeted them.

"We are happy to help," Melanie's grandfather, whose name was Drew Hutchinson, rose to bow, but Luke stopped him by shaking his hand. Luke didn't want them to be here because he was the crown prince; that was how you made enemies.

Introductions were made, and Meredith asked, "Could you explain exactly why we are here? Your letter sounded urgent, but it was quite vague."

Luke and Eric pulled some chairs a bit closer to the others, as this sitting room was on the larger side. "Well," Eric began, "I'm not sure if you know, but Melanie used to be a dancer with the Twelve Swans."

"Yes, we know that," Lord Hutchinson said.

"Oh. Then this will make much more sense to you."

"Melanie," Luke spoke gently. The former dancer hadn't spoken a word, and he suspected that she knew exactly why she was here. "The girls, and Rictadore, haven't been seen for a week. No one knows where they are."

Melanie's head shot up suddenly, but she lowered it again, almost before Luke caught the surprised and concerned expression in her eyes.

"We've followed every lead we have to a dead end. We have no idea where they could be or what happened to them. But I think you might. You're the only person who can help us find them."

"No," Melanie blurted. "No, I'm not getting involved. I left that life a long time ago, and I'm not going back."

"Melanie!" her grandfather scolded.

"No, it's all right," Eric broke in by placing a box down on the tea table in the centre of the room. "We aren't asking you to do much. We just need you to tell us what all of this means."

Together he and Luke unpacked the documents and sketches Catalina had left. Despite herself, Melanie was curious, and leaned forward to better see the papers.

"What is all this?" Albert asked.

"From what we can tell," Luke replied, "they are all either finanical documents or pictures drawn by Catalina. A lot of the pictures are of places none of us recognize, and the numbers on the documents don't always add up correctly."

"How did you get these?" Melanie asked, her sharp tone dropping to a hushed whisper.

"Catalina left them," Luke answered. He was not about to tell them where. "Do you know what they are?"

She was quiet for a long moment, her eyes flicking from one paper to the next. "Mel?" her grandfather asked.

"Yes," Melanie whispered. She picked up one of Catalina's sketches, one that depicted an unfamiliar forest with a dark lake in the distance. "And this is where they are."

"Please," Eric begged, "can you take us there? I promise, you don't have to go back to that life."

"I fully intend to arrest Rictadore on charges of kidnapping at the very least," Luke added. "So don't worry about him."

Melanie looked at her grandfather, sister, and brother-by-marriage for a long time. When she finally turned back to Luke and Eric, a hardened resolve shone in her eyes.

"Let's go. Bring your swords."

She marched them up to the hallway where the dancers' rooms were. Along the way, Luke had snagged Connor, Romeau and Andrew - his swords, as it were - and so it was quite the group that entered the dancers' sitting room.

Melanie didn't hesitate for a second; it was as if she had never left the troupe. She went swiftly to the wardrobe in the corner and opened the lefthand door. Hanging on the back was a tapestry, intricately woven in the older style, that showed a rather dark forest scene. Luke recognized it from one of Catalina's sketches. Melanie removed her silk gloves, hands shaking, and traced the gold border with one finger. The path beneath her finger began to glow, until the light was nearly blinding, and the image on the tapestry wavered.

"Come along, then," Melanie said, sounding nervous. "In you go."

"Just step right through?" Romeau asked.

"It's like th' ol' magic in th' stories me gram used to tell," Andrew whispered, sounding awed.

Melanie turned to her family. "Please, go back to our rooms. We'll be back very soon."

"Mel, what is this? What happened to you?" Meredith sounded horrified and concerned all at once.

"I'll explain everything later. I promise. Just go?"

"All right."

Melanie bunched her skirts in both hands and stepped into the glowing tapestry as if climbing into a carriage. Eric followed hot on her heels, seemingly unfazed by the magic. The others filed in one by one. Stepping through the tapestry felt vaguely like stepping through a curtain of water; there was a rushing in Luke's ears and he was temporarily blinded. A cooling sensation flooded his skin.

When he could see again, Luke found himself standing beside a large oak tree with a oval-shaped hollow in the centre of its trunk, in the dark forest from the tapestry's picture. Without a word, Melanie led them down a well-beaten path of smoothed grass and hardened dirt.

The forest itself was eerily silent. There were no animals scurrying from tree to tree, or breeze rustling the leaves. The only noise came from the faint swish of Melanie's skirts and the thud of their boots.

"Look at that," Connor hissed, almost afraid to break the silence. He pointed at a nearby tree. Luke did a double take; instead of dark wood and green leaves, the tree seemed to be made of pure, bright silver, down to each and every leaf. In fact, every tree in this stretch of wood was silver.

"How is that..." Eric froze and wheeled around. All the trees from where they had begun their walk were normal. There was a stark line where the trees went from wood to silver, all in one sudden go.

"A lot of the things you will find here seem impossible," Melanie said.

They continued on until the silver wood suddenly ended at the shores of a lake made of black waters. Here was the spot where Melanie was at a loss of what to do; she began scanning the shoreline on both ends of the lake, looking confused.

"What's the matter?"

"There are usually boats here, one for each of us," she said. "And they have these strange boatmen...they row us across the lake every time we come, and they are always at the shore, but they seem to be missing."

"Is that them?" Romeau pointed across the darkness to the opposite shore, where faint outlines of twelve little boats could just barely be seen.

"Yes," Melanie sighed. "We'll have to go back. There is one other way to get to this world, and it will bring us to the other side of the lake. Unfortunately, it's a lot less reliable."

"How so?" Luke asked.

"It is in Ricatdore's rooms. Or it was, the last time I used it. We'll have to hope it is not in his possession. But see those lights?" She gestured to the horizon. "There is a pavillion there. That is where he has us dance. That is where the girls will be."

"What do you mean?"

Melanie turned and began walking back the way they had come. "When I was still in the troupe, we had to dance here, all night long, on every full moon. But when I last saw Catalina after Christmas, she said he had moved it up to two or three nights a week. And sometimes, he would have just Catalina and I dance; I can only imagine how often she has been here."

"What in 'eavens' name for, lass?" Andrew said.

"I haven't the slightest clue. He never said why. He just showed us the portal and told us when we were expected."

They stepped back through the large hollow in the oak tree and reappeared in the sitting room. Melanie wasted no time in locating Rictadore's office and striding right on in.

"It's a little ink bottle, with gold designs on it," she said. "I don't know where he hides it when we are here, so look everywhere. If you find it, don't touch it."

Luke picked the most logical place to hide an ink bottle, the desk. He pulled open every drawer and completely emptied them. They were full of more documents like the ones Catalina had left, as well as order forms and purchase receipts. Angrily, he noticed how few of them were actually in Rictadore's handwriting. He'd assumed Catalina only had access to the papers she filled out, but apparently, that was not the whole story.

The last drawer in the desk had a false bottom. Luke found the mechanism and popped it open to reveal a little glass bottle with the gold designs. Melanie rushed over, pulling her silk gloves back on.

"Stand back, everyone," she instructed. She carefully twisted the lid off and tipped the bottle. A single drop of clear liquid spilled out and landed on the floor at her feet. Melanie capped the bottle and stored it in her dress pocket.

The drop lit up like a candle the moment it touched the ground. The spot expanded and grew dark, until it was a wide pit about six feet across. A stone appeared at one side, a large grey oval, and another beneath it, to create a sort of stairway into complete blackness.

Something floated up out of the hole, something small and bright. Melanie reached out and hesitantly grabbed it.

"It's a necklace. A rose pendant," she said, turning it over in her palm.

"That's Catalina's. I gave it to her," Luke answered.

Melanie said nothing when she handed it to him, and began the descent. Luke was dying to know if it meant anything that the necklace had been left here. The clasp was broken, and a few dark hairs were stuck in it. Luke stored it away in his breast pocket.

This portal was much worse than the tapestry, as it was as if Luke was walking into complete nothingness. He kept his hand on the hilt of his sword, for the comfort of knowing he was armed, and just to have an anchor to grip in the blackness.

Melanie knew exactly what she was doing, however, and effortlessly found a door at the end of the stairway. She opened it a crack, and a bit of light spilled into the black hole. "Come along - but be quiet."

The door opened on what seemed like a storage closet: the walls were lined with gardening tools, caked with dirt and bits of plants, and some other devices that Luke had never seen before. The closest thing he could come up with were modified building tools, but some didn't even fit that category.

At the end of the walk-in closet was another door. Melanie stopped them before they could exit and held a finger to her lips. Luke leaned an ear to the wall and listened as hard as he could.

He heard a faint whimper, and a dull thud.

"Hold your head up, girl, or I will secure it," Rictadore's voice sounded very close.

"No - please - I'll try harder."

It was Catalina's voice, barely loud enough to be audible through the wall. She sounded exhausted and in pain. Luke felt a sharp stab in his palms and looked down to see his fists clenched so hard, his short fingernails were cutting him. Romeau gripped his shoulder.

There was the creaking of old ropes and gears, and more movements and thuds from farther away. Melanie closed her eyes and heaved a silent sigh, before opening the door the tiniest crack, and inviting Luke to look.

They were in a greenhouse lined with shelves, filled with objects Luke couldn't quite make out. Most of the lights were off, except for one or two at the far end of the room. Catalina was there.

She wore the black dance outfit from the last peformance he had seen her in, and it was torn and dirty. Her hair had spilled free of its pins and hung in limp, tangled locks around her pale face. Her eyes were closed. Her arms were suspended above her head, held in place by ropes around her wrists that were pulled tight to the wall behind her. Even from a distance, Luke could tell the skin was ripped raw. He couldn't see her feet, but the right leg was held rigid, presumably by more rope, while the left dangled loose, and there was blood streaked on her knee. It took every ounce of willpower Luke possessed not to sprint to her side.

A shadow blocked his view. Luke pulled back so fast he nearly slammed into Eric. They all held their breath as they heard the slow, even footsteps of the dance instructor, accented by the click of his walking stick, travel the length of the room.

"Please don't touch," Catalina pleaded weakly.

"First position."

There was silence for what felt like an eternity. Luke dared not look out again, for fear he wouldn't be able to control himself a second time. They heard the dull scratch of a blade against rope, and the footsteps sounded, followed by a stumbling gait. Another door creaked on old hinges, and slammed shut. The greenhouse was silent.

"What should we do?" Eric hissed.

"We have to get to the pavillion," Melanie answered. "I'm pretty sure that is where Rictadore and Catalina went, and it's where the rest of the girls are. We'll hide in the gardens and wait for Rictadore to come back, and then go."

They did just that. Romeau found a huge bush for them to hide behind, with a perfect view of the stone path that Melanie said led down to the pavillion. The bright red trail of blood made Luke clench one fist, and touch the other hand to his pocket. Soon.

Rictadore came back up the path, carefully avoiding the blood. He didn't even bother to look around him, he simply went right back into the greenhouse. Luke noticed the windows were darkened on the outside, so no one could see in.

They hurried down the trail, Luke running faster and faster when he saw the amount of blood staining the stones increase every few feet. How could a person lose this much blood and survive? Was it just his imagination? The flowers lining the path were horribly bright and garish looking, their scent too sickly sweet. His head spun, and his breath came in spurts. His mouth was dry and his hands were cold.

The pathway merged into a large stone pavillion, scattered with low benches, but free of any plant life. There was plenty of room to dance; a pile of worn-out pointe shoes lay not too far away, the fabric completely ripped through, with small spots of brown staining the pink satin and ragged ribbons worn to threads. The blood trail was larger here, and smeared. A gaggle of girls wearing all black huddled on the floor, their backs to the group.

Luke rushed over without a second thought. " 'lina?"

He ignored several squeaks of surprise, and the louder one from Ivy; he had eyes only for Catalina. She lay on her back, her hair spilling every which way, her cheeks flushed too red and the rest of her skin too white. Her left leg was covered in so much blood that he couldn't see the new cuts or old scars. Her eyes were closed. Luke scooped her up gingerly in his arms and cradled her head on his shoulder.

" 'lina, 'lina, I'm here. You're going to be okay, I promise you. I'm going to get you out of here. Just stay with me, 'lina, stay with me."


End file.
